As Long As We Both Shall Live
by bananafrappe
Summary: Everything was falling perfectly into place, and I looked on the night of the Gala, for the first time, with anticipation rather than antipathy. There were two weeks yet to be forded between now and then, but when the evening of the event came… I would finally know what it was like to have her for myself, even if it was, for now, in pretense.
1. Sakura

As Long As We Both Shall Live

* * *

_Hello, hello… I would like to welcome any interested parties to this spur of the moment story of my own design, starring one of the most unlikely pairings in the world; Itachi and Sakura. Make no mistake, SasuSaku owns my soul, but there is something just plain hot about ItaSaku, and I've been obsessed with it lately. The story takes place in modern day America, mostly based in and around New York City, New York. Now, I really like this plot line for something that hit me over the head while I was washing dishes, so be patient with me if you don't immediately understand what's going on. The reason for the mature warning is going to be bad language and explicit sexual content. Now please… enjoy._

_Disclaimer: I do not in any shape or form own any part of the miracle that is Naruto. The characters are the sole ownership of Masashi Kishimoto._

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Chapter 1: Sakura

* * *

I was running.

Not in the literal sense of the term, of course; my position on the seat of the Greyhound bus I was currently riding requiring none of the motions needed in the action. No, what I was doing could only be described as the metaphorical definition… I was fleeing a place that I was afraid to remain in. Leaving a person that I was scared to remain in contact with.

Departing the place wasn't a surprise to me. I had never really wanted to live in New York City, with its skyscrapers and subways and smog… I had always hated it, but my marriage had required I stay here. We had been planning to leave after he finished college…

I shook my head, my dull pink hair swinging with the motion, ignoring the weight of my empty ring finger as the bus rumbled steadily below and around me, pulling slowly onto the highway. I had come to terms with my loss, and there was no need to open up old scars. I would not think of my reasons for coming here… only the reasons I was leaving.

I had been trying to find a way to justify leaving for the past year and a half, but I had had responsibilities. Things that I could not just leave behind. But now… after last night… I could no longer stay because of the person I was putting behind me.

To be honest, I wasn't sure if it was him I was running from, or myself.

I swallowed with difficulty, scooting closer to the side of the bus and wrapping my coat tight around me to shield myself from my own emotions. The guilt, the shame, the heartache… my traitorous actions could never be forgiven. How could I have thought that things could get better? They only ever got worse, in my world.

Everything that I had gone through had given me hope that everything would look up. You know what they say about hitting rock bottom; the only direction to go is up. But I had pulled out a shovel and kept digging. I dug so deep that the only way out now was to pull the loose dirt over my head and hide for the rest of my miserable life.

Leaving was the only option I had.

I bit my lip to keep from sobbing out loud as tears spilled down my face silently. Moving on and letting go of my grief and pain had done nothing but open me up to more anguish, and now my last chance, my very last shot at having something almost as good as my former life was gone; blown to the wild winds by my own stupidity.

I had known from day one that I was nothing but a substitution, an object to fill the empty space in his home. But I had tried to make it more. I had forced meaning into something that was merely convenient, and now I had ruined it. Since I had been the one to break it, it was my duty, my _responsibility_ even, to fix it.

I highly doubted he would miss me. He had gotten everything that he required from me; hell, he had even found peace. As such, my usefulness was spent. He had other people to be friends with, other women to turn to in his loneliness. I had no right to impose on him. He probably wouldn't even remember that we had…

I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the images that surged to the forefront of my consciousness. No, I couldn't afford to think of it. Not while I was trying so hard to convince myself that it had meant nothing. That I was completely unaffected. That it wasn't the reason why I was alone on a bus in the middle of Jersey, heading as far west as I could with the money I had in my pocket.

I sighed deeply, leaning my forehead against the cool window as I watched the sun rise over the wooded horizon. I hadn't bothered trying to cover my tracks or hide my transactions. I knew perfectly well that, as the Department Chief for the NYPD, he could find me quite easily even if I did try to be stealthy in my escape, but I had no reason to think that he would follow me. Why would he?

I was nothing but a replacement in his eyes. It would be better for the both of us that I had…

I looked up suddenly, ripped from my reverie, as the bus driver slammed on the brakes suddenly, coming to a screeching halt after skidding twenty feet down the road. "What the hell is this idiot doing, parking in the middle of the fucking highway?" he yelled, and I stood up to see what he was talking about, the four other denizens of the bus copying me.

Parked in the middle of the driving lane, driver's side door hanging open and engine still running, was a very expensive, very shiny, and _very_ familiar black sports car, the person who had previously been driving it standing unflinchingly in front of it, obviously unperturbed by the fact that he just almost got run over by a bus.

The wind whipped his long, raven toned ponytail over his shoulder and blew his dark bangs across his angular face. His hands were thrust in his pockets as he slowly approached the bus; his deep, staid eyes locked unwaveringly on… me.

My heart dropped into my stomach as I registered who it was exactly that had halted my escape and that he had not only found me incredibly quickly… he could see me, and he was coming closer.

No… oh god, no…

My eyes widened in instinctive fear as his mouth twitched down into a barely visible frown as he strode closer, eyes never leaving mine and intent obvious, and I scrambled from my seat hastily and ran for the back of the bus with all the speed I could muster, hoping frantically for an emergency exit that would allow me to continue my flight, but there was none.

God, why was he _here_? I couldn't face him. I couldn't do it; that was why I had left without a word at five this morning, being careful not to wake him with my tears or my hurried packing. I had thought it would be easier… but now he was here, talking to the bus driver in calm, assured manner that would ensure him entrance to the vehicle. No, no, no…

I was scrabbling my fingernails over the window on the back of the bus, desperate to escape, when I heard his footsteps. Those calm, sure, steady footsteps that I had learned, it seemed, almost by heart these past few years. His gait was the only thing that ever betrayed his inner emotions, the ones he never let his expressions show.

When he was happy, he walked fast. When he was concerned, he walked heavily. When he was angry… he walked slowly and quietly, just as he was now.

I shivered fearfully. I could tell from his very presence as he strolled down the bus aisle towards me that he was infuriated. It radiated off of him in threatening waves, an almost tangible feeling against my flushed skin as he slowed down even more, possible a few feet from me at most.

I felt his hard gaze on my back even as I refused to turn and face him, my eyes locked stubbornly on some indeterminable object in the distance, and it was then that I knew that _I_ was the cause of his ire. What had I done wrong? I had just tried to help him…

His breath was heavy and his aura intimidating, the silence pressing in on us both intimately as he took one final step closer, the heat of his body bleeding through the back of my coat as he halted a few inches from my trembling body.

He didn't touch me as I had expected him to. He didn't move or speak or so much as hint at his intentions as I basically pressed my body against the wall, eyes wide in confused fear.

He shifted suddenly, his feet dragging against the floor in what seemed like a deafening sound in the suffocating silence. I was tempted to look over my shoulder, to see what he was doing, but I never got the chance as he spoke a single, resounding word.

It cut me to the quick. That single syllable carried the pain and the tragedy and the brokenness of a lifetime, reminding me of everything that had led both of us to this moment. He didn't say it in anger, or accusation, or even sadness. His deep, low voice almost whispered the question, and it swept me away to a time that was better than this. A time that both of us had been happy and guiltless…

"Why?"

It spoke volumes and unknown degrees and when it reached my ears, my gaze grew dim with bitter tears and I closed my eyes.

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_Alright guys, tell me what you think. I already know exactly where I'm going with this, and I'll probably have the next chapter up in a few days, but I want to get some feedback first. Reviews, please, and thanks for reading!_


	2. Sakura: Year One

_Well, I must say that I am surprised by the reception of the first chapter. You guys were really interested. I'm glad, but I must warn you… that was nothing compared to the rest of it. XD Thank you for all of the awesome reviews; they inspire me to no end. :) Anywho, let's move right on, shall we?_

_Warning: If you are under the age of consent, run run away as fast as you can. This chapter is overflowing with bad language, ideologically sensitive material, angst, and suggestive themes. There is a character death contained within as well, so be ye warned before proceeding. I will not be blamed for ruining your childlike innocence if you continue._

_Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Naruto. Some of the characters in this story are of my own creation, but any that you actually recognize are the sole ownership of Masashi Kishimoto._

* * *

Sakura: Year One

* * *

_His deep, low voice almost whispered the question, and it swept me away to a time that was better than this. A time that both of us had been happy and guiltless…_

"_Why?"_

_It spoke volumes and unknown degrees and when it reached my ears, my gaze grew dim with bitter tears and I closed my eyes._

*Two and a Half Years Before*

In the beginning, it was as easy as breathing. I wedded the man that I loved, and life was perfect again.

Sasuke Uchiha and I were meant to be.

Caught up in the height of blissful love, I was happy to say that I was content. The world finally made sense to me as I was held in the firm, loving embrace of my beloved, and everything looked like it would be alright again.

My parent's deaths didn't hurt as badly; I could let go of my grief and smile when he held me close and kissed my tears away. I could release my fear and let myself _feel_ as I lay beneath him in our bed, making our love into physical actions. I could cry tears that weren't painful as he got down on one knee before me, pleading for my hand in marriage almost desperately.

I loved him, and he loved me; it was all that I needed.

The wedding was absolutely breathtaking; he never spared any expense when it came to making me happy. I had never seen him look as content as when I walked down the aisle to him, his hand warm underneath mine as Naruto handed me off to him.

I could barely pay attention to the words the minister spoke as I looked up into my lover's eyes adoringly, his own gaze meeting mine with fierce pride. He was proud to have such a woman at his side, and I was happy to be there.

His brother stood behind him in the best man's position, expression indulgently understanding as he watched the proceedings and looked over our union with a half-smile. His gaze flickered constantly to his wife in the front row of the pews, eyes unreadable to me. Maybe he was reliving his own marriage to the woman he loved… who ever knew with him?

I said my vows without even really hearing them; the words I had written myself fading into the background as I promised myself to the man before me, his eyes glowing with satisfaction and victory. But I heard every word that he spoke as he reciprocated, his pledges feeling like they etched themselves on my heart.

"I, Sasuke Uchiha, take you, Sakura Haruno, to be my lawfully wedded wife, my one and only partner in this life, and do solemnly swear to uphold these vows in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, as long as we both shall live," he said evenly, slipping my engagement ring off my finger and sliding my wedding ring on in its place, and watched the smile that lifted my lips and the happiness that lit my eyes with a doting smirk.

The command to kiss had barely left the minister's lips when I leapt into my husband's arms, allowing him to dip me down and place a passionate kiss on my mouth, my first kiss as Mrs. Sakura Uchiha. It didn't last as long as I desired it to, but there would be time for that later. We had guests to entertain and a reception to suffer through first before we could make our getaway and begin our honeymoon.

The reception was far too long in my opinion, and Sasuke didn't help my ruffled situation any at all with the hand he kept sliding up my leg under the table and the husky whispers he uttered in my ear every chance that he got, promising every pleasure imaginable the very second he had me in bed. I had no idea how long that would be, since he had refused to tell me where we were going, and this only served to make me even more flustered.

This seemed to amuse Itachi to no end.

He never let my aroused blushes go without a knowing, antagonistic grin shot at me from his position beside his brother, even going so far as to comment, "I could distract the guests long enough for you two to sneak away for a few minutes, if you'd like…" before dodging the high heeled shoe I threw at his head with a snicker. I was merely annoyed by this until he held a ten minute conference with my husband, both of them shooting me deliberate glances the entire time.

It was at this point that I set his wife on him. He didn't bother me again after the vicious tongue lashing he got from her.

After much to-doing and congratulation giving and goodbying, we were finally allowed to leave and endure the seven hour plane ride to Paris, France. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to kill him for the length of the trip or drag him to the bathroom and let him take me right there on the plane for being so romantic.

Needless to say, there was nothing to stop us from falling immediately into bed the second we got to the honeymoon suite Itachi had somehow secured for us, neither of us even thinking of sleep until six o'clock the next morning.

We spent a whole week there, following pretty much the same routine the whole time; waking up at noon, having sex, going out to see some sights, running back to the hotel and having sex, touring some of the other attractions, getting ready for dinner after having sex, eating at a super fancy restaurant, and then going back and staying up until three in the morning having even more sex.

He was relentless and insatiable in his demands; I had figured that he would be like this, but I had underestimated the severity of it... I could barely walk straight. It mattered little, though, because I had never felt more wanted. We were young, we were free, and we were in love.

There was nothing else to say.

* * *

Our marriage changed almost nothing for us besides my last name and our tax information. We had lived together previous to our union (much to the horror of most of my extremely religious family), so we had already shouldered through personal space issues and financial differences.

We moved out of our small apartment and into the house that Itachi had given us as a wedding gift; a gorgeous little cottage painted a dusky blue with snow white trim and shutters, surrounded by a quaint little yard that I could garden in to my heart's content and a hip high white picket fence. It was beautiful, and I loved it the minute we pulled up in front of it.

Itachi was there waiting for us with the keys, looking us over with a meaningful smirk.

"Try to keep the curtains closed when you get in the mood… there are children next door," he said quietly, eyes glinting in savage amusement as Sasuke chuckled and I aimed a punch at his ear (which he stepped out of the way of easily).

I glowered at the man playfully as Sasuke swept me into his arms, carrying me over the threshold of our new home in the traditional manner. Despite all of the teasing and seemingly harsh commentary that we traded, Itachi and I had a very strong friendship and he had come close to almost being my own brother ever since Sasuke and I had started dating.

The next few weeks were dedicated to decorating and furnishing the house; Sasuke even took time off of college and work so that he could give his full attention to the project. We painted, wallpapered, shopped for furniture and accents and, after everything was put in its place, christened every possible surface with our lovemaking.

We made sure to close the curtains.

* * *

It was unsurprising, with all of the sex that we had been having, that the first month following our marriage found me sitting on the toilet seat nervously, staring at the pregnancy test lying on the sink next to me keenly.

I looked on as the second stripe appeared, slowly growing firmer and more solid, and I smiled widely. I was pregnant… I hugged my stomach, rocking on the seat happily. There was life growing inside of me… my husband and I had created something irreplaceable and precious and I was carrying it.

Now to tell Sasuke…

I got up and picked up the test with shaking fingers, exiting the bathroom into our bedroom. My husband and his brother looked up as I entered the room; Itachi was perched on the edge of the bed and Sasuke was pacing up and down the length of the room restlessly. He had been even more nervous than I had been, and had called his brother over to keep him company while we waited for the results.

Sasuke strode over to me, looking over my stoic expression anxiously. I handed the test to him, and he looked at it for a moment before frowning in confusion and offering it to Itachi, who had come to stand next to him. He took it carefully, looking at it for a few moments as well before nodding.

"It's a positive." He muttered, and Sasuke's eyes widened, shooting over to my now joyous expression and looking like he hardly dared to believe it.

"You… positive… pregnant?" he said slowly, and when I nodded warmly, he whooped loudly, picking me up and spinning me excitedly. "I'm going to be a dad!" he shouted, kissing me fiercely and then setting me down, his hand moving down to rest on my abdomen lovingly.

In the background, Itachi slid his hands into the pockets of his neatly pressed suit pants, looking on our joy with a half-smile.

* * *

I should have known it wouldn't last. I should have known that it was all too good to be true, because after that, everything went to hell.

* * *

The first of my losses was shocking.

The first two months of my pregnancy had been perfect in their normalcy; my prenatal tests showing no signs of any problems or even any genetic abnormalities. Nothing could have been expected from my pregnancy but complete success.

But that didn't stop it from happening. One day while I was changing out a load of laundry I was suddenly doubled over in excruciating pain, my stomach heaving and eyes blind in my agony. It was a miracle that I found the phone to dial 911; I had to crawl, I was in so much pain.

The hospital could offer me no explanations for it. They themselves looked at my records and said that that nothing had been wrong; my body had simply, for some unknown reason, rejected the baby and I had miscarried.

I cried.

I was ashamed that I let my misery show in such a horrendous display of weakness, but I couldn't hold it back. No one reprimanded me or showed anything but pity as my husband held me close and tried his best to sooth me, Itachi a sure, comforting presence in the background as he spoke with the doctors about my status.

He informed us that I would be able to get pregnant again, but I wasn't sure if I wanted or deserved to.

My baby… I had killed my own baby…

* * *

The second of my losses was heartbreaking.

I only lasted a month into my new pregnancy before I miscarried again. The doctors told me, while Itachi and Sasuke talked in the hallway (Sasuke didn't want me to see him cry), that my problem with my pregnancies was an uncommon but not unheard of psychological factor. They didn't know what it was, but if I didn't resolve it, they said, I would never be able to carry a child without rejecting it from my body.

I could barely comprehend it, staring into space emptily as Sasuke and Itachi returned to my bedside, each of them holding one of my hands comfortingly. I was mentally not letting myself have a child? _Why_? There was nothing I wanted more than to have my husband's baby…

Or did I?

* * *

The last of my losses was cruel and, undoubtedly, the worst. I remember the night like it was yesterday; it was cold… and it was raining.

Two weeks after my last miscarriage a knock came to my front door at eight thirty in the evening, surprising me out of my depressed perusal of the wall in front of me. Two uniformed policemen were standing on my doorstep, sheltering themselves from the heavy rain by utilizing every inch of my porch they could fit in and looking me over with sympathy. "We need you to come with us, ma'am. There's been a car accident and your husband has been severely injured."

I followed them numbly, not even bothering to grab a jacket or shoes or even to lock up the house. I was silent the entire drive to the crash site, staring blankly out the window and praying with everything that I had in me that he would be alright. That it wasn't that bad.

He had left a few hours previous to the policemen's arrival, going to ask his brother for advice concerning my depression over my miscarriages. He had called only twenty minutes ago, telling me that he was on the way back and that he was bringing his brother's wife, Alora, with him to cheer me up. God… Sasuke, _please_ be ok…

When we got to the scene, I jumped out of the cruiser before it had even stopped and sprinted to the ambulances, looking around for my husband frenetically. The site was horrible; Sasuke's car was smashed against the inside of the over pass the emergency vehicles were parked under for protection against the icy sheets of rain, the semi-truck that had swerved into him lying on its side in the median of the road, the cab crumpled and torn into still smoking pieces.

After questioning various medical technicians, I finally found him, strapped down to a gurney and… my throat constricted at the sight of the jagged piece of metal jutting from his chest, and I forced my eyes up to his face. He saw me, his blood covered hand reaching out to me as he struggled to breathe, and I took it gently, my eyes filling with tears. He shook his head, smoothing his other hand down the side of my face comfortingly.

Neither of us acknowledged the bloody trail his fingers left.

"No… d-don't cry, Sakura… don't b-be *cough* sad… y-you'll… be alright, *cough* s-sweetheart…" he assured me haltingly, the ragged coughs racking his body with shivers as a trickle of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. I bit my lip and shook my head, refusing to believe that I could lose him like this even as I watched his eyelids flutter weakly and listened to the machines surrounding him beep frantically.

"Don't leave me, Sasuke…" I begged, clutching his hand tightly and shaking him slightly in my fervor. "Don't leave me here… you have to stay! Don't leave me all alone! You can't do this to me, Sasuke, please… I know! I'll go get help! You need help…" I cried, trying to pull away so I could find a doctor and _make_ them save my beloved, but he grabbed on to my arm, his grip still strong even as he lay dying before me.

He looked at me firmly, doing his best to force back the tremors of his failing body even as he coughed up a deluge of dark red blood.

"No. Stay with me… I-I need you… to *cough* understand… You w-won't be alone… *_cough* _I-Itachi will… take c-care of *cough* you… n-never… hesitate to ***cough*** move o-on, after I… S-Sakura… I-I'm s-sorry… your h-happiness… all that m-matters… ***cough **_**cough**_* I… love y-you…" he choked out, dragging me down to press a kiss to my lips before he fell back, his grip slackening. I looked with shocked disbelief into his empty, glazed eyes, the machines around us all flat lining a background noise that I had no room in my mind to acknowledge.

No… Sasuke…

I was pushed out of the way thoughtlessly as a surge of EMTs scrambled to resuscitate him, and I stood back and watched as they failed again and again and again, the tears beading in my eyes refusing to fall in case I missed something. When they declared him dead at nine fourteen PM, January 30, I turned away, stumbling in my quickness to escape.

Oh, god… _Sasuke_…

I could feel the blood, _his_ blood, on my face and mouth as I walked dazedly towards the edge of the circle of emergency vehicles, and I clutched my arms around my body as silent sobs shook my shoulders. Sasuke… this couldn't be real. It has to be a dream…

Please… please don't be real…

I was trying to find a reason not to have an emotional breakdown when a strong pair of arms seized me, turning me around and yanking me close to a masculine chest. I smelled the rain and blood and salt as I clung to the man before me, him embracing me just as hard.

"Sasuke?" he muttered gruffly, and it was then that I realized who it was that was holding onto me like a lifeline. Itachi… the quality of his clothes, the sheer height of him, and the fact that he was clutching me as close as he could without breaking me should have clued me in, but I was so desensitized by grief that I couldn't even answer his vague question, just nodding and burying my face in his coat.

He clenched his arms around me tighter, setting his cheek against the top of my head.

"Alora is gone too." He said thickly, and I finally broke. A loud, gut wrenching sob tore from me harshly and the tears poured down my face in a torrent.

"Oh, Itachi…" I sobbed, and he nodded, stroking my hair soothingly and cradling my body close to his.

"I know…" he whispered raggedly, and I felt his own tears drip down the side of my face to mix with the blood of his brother.

No one disturbed us as we embraced each other in the middle of the harsh winter rain, the pain and the suffering washing over us in a way that the freezing water never could.

* * *

_It wasn't fair_.

This was the mantra that I repeated to myself over and over again as I sat on my bed, all alone in the darkness of my empty home. It wasn't fair that I had only had five years with Sasuke. It wasn't fair that our marriage had only lasted six months before he was stolen away from me. It wasn't fair that I had lost both of the children I had been gifted with due to my own inadequacies. And it was especially unfair that I was alive when he was gone.

I clenched my fists, one of them holding my wedding ring tightly, and leaned back against the headboard of my bed in exhaustion. He had been gone for two weeks now… and I couldn't find the words to describe how I felt about it. I was sad, yes… but something inside of me just felt… hollow. Empty. Like something had been ripped out of my body when the light had left his eyes and now, I would never get it back.

I wanted so very badly to blame Sasuke for abandoning me, for leaving me all alone with nothing but memories and objects and pain, but I had no one to blame but myself. If I hadn't miscarried, I wouldn't have been depressed that night, and he never would have left. He would still be alive... and so would Alora. Itachi must hate me so much.

I wouldn't blame him if he did.

It was my fault… all my fault. What was wrong with me? I should have been the one to die…

The phone next to me rang, and I looked at the caller ID disparagingly before turning back to my perusal of my wedding ring, ignoring my best friend's attempt to reach me. I didn't want nor deserve my friend's condolences; they would just remind me of what I was desperately trying to forget.

I eyed the white gold band held between my fingers sadly. I had been deliberating over what to do with it for the better part of four hours, and I still hadn't come to a conclusion. According to the cold hard facts, I was no longer married and had no right to continue wearing the symbol of my union. Adding to the incentive to leave it off was the fact that every time I looked at it with anything more than a passing glance, it brought tears of sorrow to my eyes.

But… I couldn't bear to not have it with me, despite all of the torment it caused me. Of all of the things that I still had in my possession, this was _the_ most precious. Along with that, the words that we had spoken during our wedding still resounded in my heart. _As long as we both shall live…_ even if he was gone, I was still here, and I would uphold that promise.

Nodding resolutely, I slipped the cold circle of metal back onto my ring finger.

* * *

*_ding dong_*

I blinked sleepily, pulled out of my sleep by the loud gonging of my doorbell, before rolling over and shutting my eyes again. Stupid dreams… can't I get one night of sleep without them?

*_ding dong ding dong ding dong*_

I sat up rigidly, eyes shooting over to my closed bedroom door and nervous hands pushing up the straps of my thin tank top. Someone actually was ringing my doorbell… I looked over at my alarm clock warily, eyebrows furrowing, before sliding silently out of bed, grabbing the baseball bat from behind the door, and slipping out my bedroom door and down the stairs.

Who the hell was at my door at two o'clock in the morning?

*_ding dong ding dong ding dong __**ding dong ding dong ding dong**_*

I flipped the switch on the wall by the front door to turn on the porch light so that I could see who it was before looking cautiously out the peephole. Eyes widening, I scrambled to undo the chain, deadbolt and lock on the doorknob, baseball bat tossed behind me hurriedly, before yanking the door open and catching the man that fell through before he could hit the ground, his greater size and weight making me "oof" with the effort of holding him up.

I sat him down on the ground before leaning against the banister of the staircase, flicking a strand of hair out of my eyes and looking my impromptu guest over. My brother-in-law was slumped over on the carpet of the entryway, his work clothes rumpled and dirty looking and his hair sticking up awkwardly in the back, like he had fallen asleep on it. He had a goofy looking grin on his face as he stared back at me, and I shook my head in amusement. "Jesus, Itachi, what happened to you? Why are you all dirty and, more importantly, _here_, at two in the morning?"

He tilted his head consideringly, blinking slowly. "Fucking hell… have I ever told you how beautiful you are? I've been a damn fool if I haven't."

I flinched at the curses, confused. Itachi _never_ cursed; he nearly always maintained his well-bred, highly aristocratic persona, and to hear him being so… crude, I suppose, was surprising to say the least.

And he was complimenting me quite generously; did he hit his head on something?

"Are you alright? You're not acting like yourself…" I said slowly, stepping over his legs to close the door, and he nodded vigorously, reaching out a hand to trail his fingers down my bare thigh as I passed him, the almost non-existent length of my shorts allowing the action quite easily.

"I'm more than alright… I feel fucking _excellent_ right now. I've been out drinking all night, I can't remember shit, and I've got a beautiful, half-naked woman concerned for my health. I'm doing just great."

Finally understanding, I rolled my eyes and slapped his hand off of my leg before offering him my hand so I could stand him up. He pulled himself up before staggering into the wall, grabbing on to the coat rack for balance with a drunken giggle.

"Whoa…" I said, stepping close to him and slinging his arm over my shoulders. "A little off balance there. Let's sit you down and get you something to eat, huh?"

He nodded as I led him to the sofa that Sasuke and I had picked out together, laying him down carefully before going to the kitchen to fetch some crackers and a glass of water. After making sure he ate and drank, I kneeled beside him and looked him over sadly, wiping some dirt off of his cheek. "What were you thinking, Itachi? This isn't the way to deal with losing Alora and Sasuke… you have children to care for, an enormous reputation to uphold… you have responsibilities and you can't just do things like get drunk in public."

His carefree smile faded and he looked away from me, staring up at the ceiling and running a hand through his mussed up hair.

"I know that. It's just… I couldn't take it anymore. It was so hard already, and then… I just can't handle the memories anymore. All I can think of is what I could have done differently. What if I had tried harder? What if I had found out earlier? What if I hadn't let them go when I knew it was raining so hard? What if I had gone with Sasuke instead? What if, what if, what if…" he mused, curling one his long strands of hair around an errant finger.

Then he looked at me again, rolling over and stroking my cheek with soft eyes.

"I couldn't take it anymore, so I went with what I thought would be the easiest way to forget. I left the kids with my parents, went out to a bar with Kisame, and got fucking shitfaced. I think I could get used to this, actually. Inhibitions just seem to float away…" he said, flicking his thumb over my bottom lip, and I leaned away.

I shouldn't encourage him; he wasn't in his right mind and he didn't know what he was doing. I stood up, reaching over him to get his glass, but stopped as the smell of heavy, _strong_ alcohol drifted up from him. I wrinkled my nose, withdrawing from the general vicinity of the stench. "God… what in the world did you drink, Itachi? You smell like you bathed in a vat of undiluted Absinthe."

He squeezed one eye shut, scratching his head and obviously thinking hard, before shrugging and reaching out to me with eager hands, clearly wanting me to lay down with him. "Hell if I know. I just know that it was fucking awesome and I want some more. Come here."

I sat down on the floor next to him pointedly, and he put his arms down, pouting slightly. I smiled at his put out look and reached out to hold his hand comfortingly, which he accepted gleefully (hugging my hand as close to himself as possible). "Well… let's try to remember together, alright? Where did you go and how much did you spend?"

He dug into his pocket with his free hand in response, tossing his wallet to me after emerging from the recesses victoriously. "Me and Kisame went to the Sapphire Cheetah's Club, but I don't have a clue how much we spent. How much is in my wallet?"

I flipped through it one handed (since he refused to relinquish my hand back to me) before looking up at him in amusement. "Nothing is in here."

His eyebrows shot up before he shrugged again, pressing kisses to the fingers of the hand he still held. "It would appear that we spent about eleven thousand dollars then."

My jaw dropped to the floor. "You went to a strip club and spent eleven thousand dollars? _How_? Did you drink every drop of alcohol they had and get fifty lap dances?"

He snorted, looking at me exasperatedly. "Even after being married to my brother you are still so innocent… the Sapphire Cheetah's Club isn't necessarily the classiest establishment in the whole city… and for the right price, you can book a back room to indulge in the less acceptable acts of male fantasies."

My eyes narrowed and gaze hardened as his suggestive tone triggered warning bells in the back of my mind. "I swear to god that I will put you out of my home flat on your ass if you give me the wrong answer to my next question, Itachi. Did you have sex with a stripper tonight?"

He blinked at me blearily before bursting out laughing.

"_Me_? Come on, Sakura; you know me better than that…"he said lazily, propping a foot up on the back of the sofa and picking a piece of my hair out of my face for me helpfully. "It's only been four weeks since Alora died… I would have to wait at least five before I got that desperate. And besides…"

He leaned down and pressed kisses to each of my cheeks lingeringly. "Why would I turn to a paid whore when there are _much_ better choices much closer to home?"

I leaned away from the romantic gesture, pushing him back down on the couch carefully and forcing the blush that rose to my cheeks back vehemently. He was smashed; he probably had no idea what he was doing or saying. No need to get ruffled… "So why did you say that if you didn't do it? What did you spend the money on?"

He smirked, looking down at me with half-lidded eyes. "I didn't spend a cent of it myself. I spent the whole night at the bar in the club, drowning in something very strong and incredibly delicious while Kisame spent a great deal of my money on a midget stripper that took his fancy. He indulged in the pleasures of one of the back rooms and then, when he was _supposed_ to be taking me home, he got me a cab and sent me on my way with twenty dollars in my hand while he went home with the rest of my money and a hooker he found outside the club."

He looked so forlorn and depressed by this that I had to laugh as I stood up, pulling him up off the couch with the hand he was still clutching close to his chest. "I'm sure he will wish he hadn't ripped you off when you're sober. At least you had fun though, right?" I said genially as he slung his arm around my shoulders.

He snorted derisively. "Humph. _Kisame_ gets to have fun all night long," he said before leaning down to whisper in my ear, "I want to have fun all night too…"

I shivered at the sensation of his breath on my ear and the implications of his words both as I wrapped my arm around his narrow waist, hooking my fingers into his belt and dragging him over to the front door.

"I'm sure there are more than enough girls that would be more than willing to help you out with that. But before you go out and find one of them, I'm going to take you home and help you get better. Alright?" I said softly, pulling the door open, but was surprised when he dug his heels in suddenly, shaking his head wildly and grabbing on to the doorframe desperately.

"No… no, no, no, no, no… Sakura, please don't make me. I can't go back tonight. I can't stand it… god, just thinking of being around all the regrets and secrets and… what if the kids saw me like this? I can't… please… can I stay here? Just for tonight?" he begged, looking so pathetic and helpless that I sighed, closing and locking the door before leading him over to the staircase.

"Yes, of course you can stay. You know that you are always welcome here, Itachi. Now come on, let's get you to bed."

He mumbled his thanks against the skin of my neck, kissing it tenderly as I helped him stumble up the stairs, me continually moving his hand back up to my shoulder as it kept slipping down to my breasts and him continually replacing it with a barely concealed grin. He was very indiscreetly sniffing my hair when I shouldered my bedroom door open and dragged him over to the bed.

I didn't trust, in his current state, that he would be able to successfully stay on the couch without accidentally dumping himself on the floor at some point during the night and the other bedroom didn't have an adult sized bed in it. It was going to be the baby's room…

I shook my head to rid myself of the thought, swallowing thickly, before dumping Itachi onto the rumpled sheets unceremoniously. He fell onto the bed heavily before looking up at me in what he obviously thought was a seductive manner (it was, but his mussed up hair turned it into a comical failure).

"And here I was thinking that you were the submissive type… my mistake. Alright, we'll do it your way this time, but the next round is all mine," he purred, biting his lip as he dragged his eyes down my body, and I shook my head, laughing quietly.

God, he was _so_ wasted…

"Itachi, stop it. You need to get to sleep. Now listen; you are going to stay _here_, in this bedroom, until you feel better. The bathroom," I pointed to the door next to my open closet. "Is right there. You go in there if you feel sick or need to use the bathroom. There is a glass for water and a bottle of Excedrin in the cabinet over the toilet for in the morning. I will be downstairs on the couch if you need me. Don't be afraid to wake me up, alright?"

He frowned, sitting up on his elbows and looking at me in confusion. "What, you aren't going to join me?"

My throat constricted and I looked down at the floor, agonizing pain racking my already broken heart. Just the thought that I could ever so casually sleep with my dead husband's intoxicated brother and not have any regrets or worries about him remembering in the morning made me feel like crying.

Is that what I came off as, the kind of person people thought I would become?

"That hurts, Itachi," I said quietly, clutching my hands to my chest tightly, and his eyes darted down to the movement before he breathed in sharply and shut his eyes, flopping down on the bed heavily.

"Oh, god. I'm such a fucking idiot when I drink… I'm so sorry, Sakura."

I waved a hand through the air, shaking my head and pushing the suggestive comment from before away.

He was drunk; people say all kinds of things while under the influence of alcohol.

"It's alright, Itachi… I blame the booze, not you. Now you sleep, ok?"

He considered me silently for a few moments before nodding and kicking his shoes off, hands starting to tug at his half-way tucked in shirt.

I excused myself and shut the door behind me, letting him undress in peace as I made my way down the hallway and down the stairs, turning off lights as I went. I leaned the bat I had dropped earlier against the wall so no one would trip over it; I could just imagine Itachi tripping down the stairs in the dark and then breaking his head open after stumbling over the bat.

I moved to the living room after retrieving one of the blankets from the hall closet, curling up in the corner of the couch that I had always sat in while watching television. More often than not Sasuke would lie down next to me, settling his head on my lap and holding my hand in his… I closed my eyes against the memories, letting the tears creep down my face silently as I drifted off to sleep.

_Oh, Sasuke_…

* * *

There was nothing more surprising to me than the fact that I slept as well as I did.

Even before my miscarriages I had only ever gotten, at most, six or seven hours of sleep per night. After losing my babies I had gotten even less. But now, I never got less than ten. Perhaps it was my body's way of escaping from all of the anguish and misery I was in while awake… I really didn't know.

The fact remains that nowadays, I usually slept until noon every day. The morning following Itachi's appearance was not an exception.

Honestly, I don't know how I could have slept through the brightness of the sunlight shining on the backs of my eyelids or the racket the birds were making in the trees outside of the window, but sure enough when I cracked my eyes open and, after shielding my eyes from the strangely placed sunlight (I thought I had closed the curtains in the bedroom last night) and locating the wall clock (who moved my clock? It wasn't supposed to be on that wall…), I discovered that it was 12:08 pm and I needed to get up now, if the rumbling from the direction of my stomach was any indication of my need.

I had slung my legs to the floor, rubbing sleep from my eyes, when the loud slamming of my fridge made me freeze in surprise. There was someone in the house, and I was… sleeping on the couch? I looked around myself, suddenly realizing where I was, and then sat back against the cushions of the sofa. Right… Itachi had come by last night, completely drunk, and I had given him the bed.

That must be him in the kitchen…

As if to solidify my mental assumption Itachi appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, carrying two plates and looking his usual unruffled and cleanly kempt self. His clothes were once again spotless, his hair neat and clean and… well… he looked the exact opposite of a person that had just been wasted not ten hours before.

It looked like he had even _ironed_ his shirt and suit pants…

His mouth lifted at one corner minutely at my awestruck perusal of him before he handed me one of the plates and sat down next to me.

"Good afternoon. I was going to wake you if you weren't already up. I hope you don't mind, but I borrowed your car so I could go get some food; the only things you have in the whole house are ramen and crackers. You still like sweet and sour chicken, correct?" he said in his ever reasonable, ever calm voice (his even, familiar tone was a comforting change from the sultry tenor it had acquired last night), indicating my plate with his chopsticks before picking up one of the pieces of chicken from his own plate and placing it in his mouth carefully.

I could only stare at him wordlessly.

I didn't care that he had borrowed the car, of course, but I was in awe of him. He had showered, washed, dried and ironed his clothes, and gone shopping and cooked lunch for both of us; was he even _human_? When I got drunk I had to stay in bed all day, nursing a massive headache, hiding from any light that slithered into the room, and hugging the toilet when needed… it was for this reason that I didn't drink often.

And I was a lightweight; I was perfectly sure he had drunk at least twice what I could handle.

"Uh… yes, I still like it… but you really didn't have to go out and cook all this… ramen is fine for me," I said, positioning the chopsticks between my fingers impractically, and he sighed, reaching over and correcting the position of my fingers.

"Well, that explains why it looks like you've lost twenty pounds; I had thought, from all the ramen and nothing else, that you just hadn't gone shopping in a while. You do know that sleeping half the day and eating nothing but microwavable cups of noodles isn't beneficial to your health, right?"

I ignored his bland look, spearing one of the pieces of (absolutely delicious) chicken and stuffing it into my mouth in answer, and he sighed and took my hand again, showing me how to pick up food without stabbing it.

Hey, it wasn't my fault that I didn't know how to use chopsticks: Sasuke hadn't inherited his brother's obsession with tradition and I had had very few occasions to use them before (I was usually spared the experience when I ate dinner at his house).

After a quick lesson in chopstickery, we sat together in a comfortable silence, him eating with graceful poise and me floundering awkwardly and feeling like a caveman in comparison. I wasn't used to feeling out of place while eating; Sasuke had always been a bottomless pit, just like our mutual best friend, who had, consequentially, been instrumental in establishing our relationship in the first place (I had been reluctant to even think of dating a playboy, not to mention a man that was two years my senior, and Sasuke had been unsure how to approach someone who was so opposed to him as a person, despite being very interested in me, so Naruto, through his mysterious matchmaking skills, had brought us together over ramen, of all things).

But Itachi was so different from him it was almost like they weren't related at all… maybe that was why it didn't hurt to sit next to him on my couch, eating together like we both hadn't just suffered traumatic, life changing experiences a few weeks previous.

I had thought that my relationship with the stoic, well-mannered man would have been ruined when I started noticing how much he resembled and reminded me of my departed love, but… they really didn't look that much like each other when you looked closely (not to mention that their personalities were almost polar opposites).

Itachi's much longer hair was a lighter black than his brother's, his eyes a very dark grey instead of obsidian. He was a couple of inches taller than Sasuke had been, had worry lines etched permanently into the porcelain skin beneath his eyes, and, due to his police duties, was also more built than my husband had been…

"Your food is getting cold."

My eyes snapped up to Itachi's, his even comment tearing me away from my examination of his chest, and I blushed when I noticed that he looked distinctly amused by my inspection. I turned back to my plate in embarrassment, awkwardly cornering one of the morsels of food, his gaze never leaving me as I made my half true apology.

"I'm sorry, Itachi; I didn't mean to stare. I'm just amazed by how good you look for having been so drunk last night."

He laughed quietly, setting aside his empty plate and obviously accepting my excuse. "You are not the first to be surprised by it, nor will you be the last. I have a strong tolerance for alcohol, though my memories of the time passing during my inebriated state are often fuzzy. I didn't make a fool of myself, did I? I can't remember anything that happened after getting into the cab last night besides getting here and ringing your doorbell twenty times," he commented, looking at me questioningly, and I dropped the chicken I had finally managed to pick up.

I looked up at him sharply, trying to gauge his expression to see if I could find any trace of knowledge of what happened last night, but he merely looked curious, his gaze patient and otherwise unreadable. So he didn't remember… I wouldn't be the one to tell him that he had asked me to sleep with him.

He probably wouldn't believe me anyway.

"No, you were great. You got here and told me that you didn't want to go home after I got you some crackers in case your stomach was upset from the alcohol, so I let you stay. You were a little off balance so I thought that putting you in the bed would be safer than sticking you on the couch, so… yeah," I said, smiling brightly and skipping over most of the details of the night before, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

A small crease appeared between his eyebrows and he folded his arms, looking at me appraisingly in a way I had come to recognize; he was no longer Itachi Uchiha, older brother of my dearly departed husband and one of my closest friends…

He was Itachi Uchiha, Department Chief and SWAT Team Commander of the New York Police Department.

"I didn't say or do anything besides that?" he asked carefully, looking over my expression with a practiced eye, and I shook my head, focusing on picking up the piece of chicken I had dropped so that I wouldn't have to look into his eyes. He hadn't gotten to be where he was by being incompetent and unobservant; ninety-nine times out of a hundred he had been able to tell when Sasuke had been lying to him, and he had been a _much_ better liar than I was.

If he caught me in my untruth, he would force the information out of me somehow (he was a very proficient interrogator as well), and I really didn't want to tell him that he had been coming on to his brother's widow.

He looked me over for a moment longer, gaze still sharp and calculating, before he shrugged, standing and picking up his empty plate.

"It's reassuring to know that I was well taken care of and was respectful towards you. I tend to become quite fulsome and loquacious while intoxicated, and I would hate to think that I said or did anything offensive," he said as he walked to the kitchen, and I stared after him guiltily.

Lying had never been something I enjoyed doing, and it didn't sit well with me that I was deceiving the last person in the world that I could factually (besides my adoptive parents) call family. It felt like I was letting him down… disappointing him.

I finished eating in the silence of the empty room, listening to the sounds of Itachi washing his plate, and shortly after the sounds of water running had ceased I stood and made my way to the kitchen myself.

When I walked into the room he was looking through the doorway into the dining room, back facing me and hands stuck in his pockets, so I went straight to the sink and set my plate in it, plugging the drain and filling it up with water.

I heard him moving around behind me, opening cupboards and cabinets while I scrubbed my plate and chopsticks clean, but didn't worry myself with thinking about what he was doing as I dried the dishes we had used and put them in the cupboard neatly. I then returned to the sink and unplugged it busily. I didn't notice him stepping up and stopping directly behind me until I tried to back away from the sink.

His chest opposed the action quite well and I froze in place, my eyes wide.

"Itachi… what are you doing?" I queried fearfully, and he grabbed my arm gently, turning me around and looking me over critically.

"When was the last time that you did anything besides hide in your house and sulk, Sakura? Have you done anything besides stare at the walls, clean, and think since Sasuke died?" he asked, completely ignoring my nervousness and my question alike, and I stared at him incomprehensibly for a few moments before swallowing heavily.

"Uh… I went out to get the mail yesterday…"

His eyes hardened. "That isn't what I meant, and you know it. You can tell me yourself, without any half ass excuses, or I can make my own assumptions regarding the issue. Your choice."

We stared at each other in silence for a while, my mind whirling and searching for something I could give him that would appease him, and him looking down on me in impatient expectation. After waiting for about fifteen seconds he continued.

"Very well, I shall make my own assumptions. From the industrial size box of ramen that you have in your pantry, I can estimate that it has been at least two and a half weeks since you've been absolutely _forced_ to go shopping. Judging from the sharpness of your cheekbones, the unhealthy texture of your skin, and…" He ran a finger down my side, making me shiver and shrink back against the counter. "The severity of the protrusions of your ribcage, you haven't been eating more than twice a day, if that. The circles underneath your eyes indicate a distinct lack of healthy rest, despite your comatose slumber of earlier today."

He gestured around the shimmering kitchen to emphasize his next point. "Your home is spotless and immaculate; everything is in its place and not a speck of dust is on anything here… you spend most of your days occupying your mind with menial tasks like cleaning. The capillaries in your eyes are starting to erode due to all of the crying that you do. The date on your last writing project (I write freelance fiction stories online for extra money) on your laptop dates back to two months ago; you haven't been writing. The lack of luster to your hair and skin indicates that you haven't been outside for any length of time greater than five minutes anytime lately. There was undisturbed dust on the steering wheel of your car, indicating that you haven't gone anywhere for at least a week… and you haven't been answering your phone. There are forty-eight messages on your answering machine that you haven't even glanced at."

He looked at me very seriously, stepping back and leaning against the counter behind him. "Now, I want you to answer me very truthfully, Sakura… do you need help? You are not attempting to get over losing my brother in the least bit, and this… what you are doing here… will only end badly. I can get you recommended to the best psychologists in the state…"

I shook my head frantically, edging along the counter in a desperate attempt to escape this conflict. "No, I don't need help. I'm perfectly fine, Itachi, and I can take care of myself. Thank you for…"

I was halted by his arm blocking my escape, his body caging me against the counter and his eyes communicating his anger.

"Do _not_ lie to _me, _Sakura. I cannot allow you to continue in this manner, and I will not let you keep hurting yourself like this. Secluding yourself, starving yourself, _punishing_ yourself… this is psychotic behavior, and as the last member of your family that is close enough to help you, it is my duty to confront you about it. If you do not change your actions, I will be forced to report you to a mental health expert, and you will most likely be admitted to a hospital."

My jaw fell open at his ultimatum, and I couldn't help but feel betrayed. "You can't do this to me, Itachi… I just want to mourn my husband in peace… why won't you let me?"

His hard expression didn't change. "That's not what you're doing anymore. You are blaming yourself for Sasuke and Alora's deaths, and you cannot ask me to sit by and watch while you waste away to nothing. Do not make me the villain for doing what my brother would have done in my place. Do you think that this was what Sasuke would have wanted? Hm?"

I flinched at his sharp tone, biting my lip and shaking my head. "N-no…" I whispered, and he nodded encouragingly.

"Do you think that he would have blamed you for his death?"

I trembled, twisting my hands together. "No…"

He looked triumphant, stepping away a little bit. "Then why are you acting like this? This is no way to honor his memory, Sakura."

I looked up at him through the tears in my eyes. "Because it _is_ my fault, Itachi."

His jaw clenched and he suddenly looked very dangerous, his eyes flashing in his ire. "Is that so? I hadn't realized that you were the semi-truck that took our spouse's lives," he snarled acerbically, and I looked down at the floor in fearful mortification as he went on, his voice rising angrily. "Or perhaps you were the rabbit that ran in front of the truck, making it swerve into Sasuke's car. Maybe you were the rain that made the car's brakes falter or the overpass that made escape impossible."

The tears building in my eyes spilled over as he got as close to yelling as he ever got, my arms hugging myself as I shivered in misery. He stepped close to me again; his long, elegant fingers taking my chin firmly and making me look up at him.

His tone and expression were both calmer as he continued, wiping my tears away with gentle sweeps of his thumbs. "These things are called accidents for a reason, Sakura. It is no one's fault, especially not yours. Sasuke wouldn't have stood for this if he knew what you were doing, and my… Alora wouldn't have been happy either."

His voice was a little strangled at the end as he looked down at the floor, and my heart ached for his loss. Losing his partner of nearly seven years and the mother of his children must have killed him inside… I reached up and took his hand, grasping it in a comforting motion, and he looked up at me consideringly before giving me an assuring smile and squeezing my fingers gently.

"Never blame yourself," he said quietly, still stroking my cheek and looking into my eyes tranquilly, and I suddenly felt… peaceful.

I hadn't felt so calm and at ease since finding out I was pregnant the first time, and… it was nice. I felt the sudden urge to press myself close to the man in front of me and embrace him, to try to hold on to this moment for as long as I possibly could.

But I couldn't do that.

This man was not someone I could be that affectionate with… that action would be far more intimate and familiar than I was comfortable with; Sasuke was the only one I could be that close to. I had promised.

So instead of acting on the impulse I pulled away minutely, enough to clue the over observant man in to the fact that I wanted to be released and he let me go, gaze once more emotionless as he took a step away. We stood looking at each other for a moment before he cleared his throat, folding his arms.

"Can we agree on the subject of you needing help?" he asked, and, deciding that being truthful would be for the best, I nodded.

He looked pleased. "Good. Now, I am aware of the fact that you have no desire to be admitted to a mental hospital or be passed into the care of a psychologist, so I have a proposition to make to you."

I looked up at him with interest, and he continued, seeing that he had my attention. "It is difficult to admit, but I am in need of your assistance just as much as you are in need of mine. You see…"

He started pacing, hands folded behind his back, and I was leaning back against the counter, watching his slightly agitated movements in confusion, when I noticed that his hands were completely bare. The indent where his wedding ring had previously been was prominent in the false glow of the kitchen lights, and I swallowed guiltily, hiding my hands behind my back.

Had I made the wrong decision about continuing to wear my ring?

"As I'm sure you are aware, I am a very busy man and I haven't had much time to spend at home in the past few years with all of my duties. As such… I do not know how to care for my children." He appeared unsettled on this account, clenching his hands tightly as he passed by me.

"Alora was always there to take care of everything, and I am sad to say that they are suffering without her. I have tried to get them to bond with sitters and nannies, but… they pine after a familiar and comforting presence that I cannot replace with people they don't know. They understand that Alora will not be returning, but still they suffer. Kenji barely speaks anymore and Roku… I often can't get him to eat more than a few bites of food. You know how to take care of children, they know, trust and love you… I want you to help me care for them."

I blinked slowly, trying to process his statement as he continued. "In the same motion, this would be helping to pull you out of your depression. You would have responsibilities, things to do every day, reasons to get dressed, go outside, and associate with people, and, essentially, move on. Get better. When I deem you recovered, I would release you from your duties and you could then go back into the world on your own and begin a new life. Be you again. We both benefit from this and everything can start going back to normal again."

I bit my lip, looking into space and thinking it over. He was right in his assessment of my situation; I did need to get over this or I would eventually kill myself with my forced misery. This arrangement could help me overcome my issues… and my nephews were obviously in desperate need of me. Poor babies…

I looked up at the man across from me. "What would I need to do? Drive over there every day, take Kenji to and from school, and watch Roku all day?"

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as if to steel himself. "That isn't going to work, unfortunately. The first step in overcoming your depression is admitting that you have a problem. You have done this. The second… is letting it go. You have to get out of this house and put aside all of the memories that it holds inside of it."

I froze, staring at him mutely. Was he telling me that I had to… leave all of this behind? But… I couldn't do that. This house was all that I had anymore. This was the manifestation of everything that had happened to me and why I was where I was today. I couldn't just let it go…

I shook my head resolutely. "I can't do that, Itachi. This house is everything to me. Sasuke and I worked so hard to make this our home…"

He looked at me with understanding, nodding sadly. "I know that. But that's why you have to leave. If you stay here, everything you look at will remind you of what you have lost and you will never get the chance to move past it. I'm not telling you to forget what happened; that's just living in denial. What you need to do is make it into a memory… but that is all. Don't let it change you, or you will lose yourself."

I bit my lip, looking down. "I just… I don't know if I _can_. I am not as strong as you and Sasuke… I'm so weak…"

My eyes flew wide in surprise as he slapped his hand down on the counter next to me, my gaze rising to his again as he leaned down to look in to my eyes. "No, Sakura. You are _not_ weak. Being sad and falling into a depression does not make you _weak_. You have lost so much in so little time; your parents, your children, Sasuke… if you weren't sad you wouldn't be a human being. You are one of the strongest women that I know, and I know that you may not think that you can do this, but I believe in you. You_ can_ leave all of this behind and become your old self again… even if I have to drag you every step of the way."

I met his gaze for a few moments, seeing nothing but truth in his eyes, before making myself look away. "Is this the only way? I couldn't just leave here and get the help I need elsewhere?"

His posture stiffened for a split second before he shook his head. "I do not think that it would be prudent for you to be alone in your state. Perhaps when you have recovered you can do such a thing, but… not now. Seclusion is the last thing you need. That's why you will be coming to live with us at the penthouse; there are plenty of unused rooms to choose from."

I nodded in understanding, looking around me at the pale hunter green paint on the walls and the appliances that Sasuke and I had spent more money on than we had needed to with a sad smile. Why did he have to be right? I had to leave this place…

But at the same time, the offer he had made me settled strangely in my stomach. I knew that Itachi cared for me, as his brother's wife and as one of his closer friends, enough to offer to help me pull out of my depression, but… nothing that he had said made it sound like I would be anything more than a surrogate mother to his children. I would be a space filler, a stand-in… a substitute. For some strange, unknown reason, this made my heart ache painfully.

Did I want it to mean something more than that?

I shook myself, pushing the bizarre feeling to the side and smiling at the man who was waiting for a confirmation patiently before nodding firmly, silently agreeing with his plan and unknowingly sealing my fate for the next two years.

* * *

The house was remarkably easy to sell.

After removing all of my and Sasuke's personal items Itachi made only one phone call and within three days, we had an offer on it. The housing market was still low, but small, economically efficient homes like this were what families were looking for nowadays, and the fact that I had declined taking any of the furnishings or appliances with me made it all the more attractive.

Only a few days after giving a tour to the people that had made the offer I was signing the deed over to them and handing the keys over, watching with teary eyes as their children ran around the yard, happily laughing and shouting. I smiled as best I could when they gave me their condolences over my loss; it wasn't fair that they could be so happy and have everything that I was supposed to in the place I had planned on starting my own family.

I looked over what remained of my belongings sadly, eyeing the two suitcases and seven boxes sitting on the curb with a sigh. Itachi had helped me clean out everything that couldn't remain in the house, handling Sasuke's things for me when I nearly had a breakdown over having to clean out the closet. Most of his things went to the local Goodwill, to people who could use them better than I could, but some of his things I just couldn't let go and Itachi didn't have the heart to take them from me.

His old guitar… his favorite coffee mug… the scarf he had accidentally ripped by getting it stuck in the front door but had continued to wear anyway… the old photo of us and Naruto, sitting around our high school lunch table…

I closed my eyes as I heard the familiar rumble of Itachi's car in the distance, rubbing the material of the aforementioned scarf between my fingers before wrapping it around my neck and standing away from the street, watching mutely as Itachi pulled up beside me. He got out of the flashy car and smiled at me gently, eyes resting on the familiar scarf for a moment before looking over my shoulder at my belongings.

"Are you ready?" he asked quietly, and I nodded, picking up one of the boxes and toting it to my car.

We worked in companionable silence for a few minutes before I broached the subject my mind was resting on.

I had no idea what to do with all of the money that I had received for the house, and it made sense to me that the benefactor of it in the first place should deal with it. "Itachi, would it be okay if I wrote you a check for the house money? I don't know if the bank will give it to me in cash."

He froze, looking at me in confusion as he stood back up to his full height, the box he had just moved into his backseat having required him to bend quite low. "What house money? We already established that you aren't going to be paying me rent for living with me and the kids."

I gestured back at the house behind me, feeling slightly exasperated.

"_This_ house money. I don't need it, and since you bought the house in the first place, I thought that maybe you would want it… back…" I quailed under his sudden glare, taking a step back as he glowered at me.

"That offends me, Sakura. This was my gift to you and my brother, and as such, the money you get for selling it is yours as well. I want nothing to do with it and I don't want to hear another word about it," he growled, and I nodded quickly.

He appeared appeased, returning to his menial labor, and I pouted slightly. Now I was stuck with three hundred thousand more dollars than I needed… what was I going to do with it? I didn't need a new car, new clothes or shoes, or anything new really… I could give it all to a charity, but for some reason, I got the feeling that Itachi wouldn't appreciate that.

Oh well… I would deal with that later, when I got to actually having to deal with the problem.

Once we were finished, I gritted my teeth and looked back at the house, running my eyes over the familiar sight sadly. This was it… I felt a comforting arm slip around my shoulders and leaned into the warmth of the body next to me, letting Itachi hold me and realizing belatedly that tears were running down my cheeks. I scrubbed them away hurriedly before pulling away from him and walking over to my car, shaking off the feeling of having wanted nothing more than to remain in his embrace.

He took this as my sign that I was ready to leave and went to his own vehicle, starting it up with a powerful roar and pulling away from the curb. I switched my car on and, with a last parting look at the house that no longer belonged to me, turned to face the road and drove away.

I followed the jet black sports car through the busy downtown traffic of New York City, looking around me at the foundations of some of the tallest buildings in the world in reluctant awe. Big cities had never been my cup of tea, but I couldn't help but be amazed by the skyscrapers. Such feats of engineering were some of the things that helped to remind me that the world moves forward despite hardships and tribulation.

New York was still New York, even after 9/11. I could still be Sakura, even after my husband's death.

I sighed irritably as I sat in line at a traffic light, watching the pedestrians passing by in boredom. Many of them were hurrying on their way, their own business the most important thing in the world to them, but a significant amount were staring openmouthed at Itachi's car, pointing indiscreetly and whispering to each other excitedly. I chuckled as the light turned green (finally), letting go of the brake in anticipation of moving forward in the long line of traffic.

He had explained the attention directed towards it to me at one point, but I couldn't remember anything from the conversation besides the fact that it was one of the most expensive cars in the world, along with being the fastest in its class. The vehicle topped the speedometer off at two hundred and forty miles per hour, and he wasn't loath to use that to his advantage.

It was a good thing he was a cop; he would probably have a million dollars' worth of tickets to go along with his million dollar car if he wasn't.

An unsurprising amount of time later (living in the city came with the casualty of taking absolutely forever to get through traffic), we pulled up in front of Itachi's home, him hopping out of his car and going inside to enlist the help of the doorman and a trolley. He lived in the penthouse suite of the most prestigious and expensive condominium complex in the city, and I looked on running up and down the twenty-five flights of stairs with distinct amusement (I hated elevators).

It's not like I didn't need the exercise.

When he reemerged with a cart and a red haired man that I didn't recognize wearing the doorman's uniform, I furrowed my eyebrows and got out of my car. "What happened to Deidara? He was here the last time I came."

The flirty blonde had always been sure to shoot some kind of inappropriately sexual remark at me whenever I came to visit Itachi and his wife, often infuriating Sasuke with his snarky innuendoes; I had merely found him amusing and paid his attentions to me no mind.

Itachi's eyes narrowed minutely as he parked the cart next to the back door of my car, but I attributed the change to him suddenly stepping into the bright morning sunlight from the shadow of the large building behind him. "He was relieved of his duties a week ago for conduct unbefitting. This is Mr. Akasuna, the new doorman. Mr. Akasuna, this is Sakura, my late brother's wife."

The man nodded to me politely. "Mrs. Uchiha," he said respectfully, and I waved my hand through the air, shifting the formal greeting away.

"Please, Mr. Akasuna. Call me Sakura; I'm sure we will be seeing a lot of each other and there is no need for formality between friends."

His calculating eyes looked me over consideringly before nodding, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "Then I must insist on you calling me Sasori."

I nodded, reaching out and shaking his proffered hand. "Sasori it is, then. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He smirked in agreement before releasing me. "A pleasure indeed…" he muttered, eyeing me appreciatively as I turned away to unlock the back door of my car, before going over to help me pick up some of the boxes and transfer them to the trolley.

Itachi seemed agitated as we loaded the cart with my boxes: slamming doors, muttering under his breath and accidentally running Sasori's foot over with the heavy trolley when we were done with the loading. It was probably because of the fact that him helping me was making him miss work (his job was the only thing he loved as much as his children)…

I would make it up to him somehow.

I was left to my own devices as Itachi and Sasori drove our cars around to the parking garage at the side of the building, so I dragged the cart into the building and over to the elevator nervously and pressed the button to signal the death trap that I wanted to go up. I looked around the lobby with impatient half-interest, inspecting the moldings on the siding while listening to the gentle rumblings of the machine in front of me and ignoring the curious looks the other people in the room were shooting me.

It really was a beautiful building, with charm and class and very obvious quality. I just didn't want to be here. I wanted _my_ house back, with its coziness and comfort and… Sasuke…

The elevator dinged, a gentle whooshing sound heralding the doors opening for me, and I entered with my belongings quickly, hoping that none of the patrons sitting around the lobby would join me. Thinking of Sasuke had caused my sight to blur and if I was alone, I could let a few of the tears escape in privacy.

But as my luck went, a call of "Hold the door, please" rang out just as the doors were sliding closed and I slid my foot into the closing space with a sigh, wiping my eyes on my shoulder indiscreetly as a little, slumped old Japanese lady joined me on the elevator.

She smiled at me in thanks as she reached over to press the button for her floor, noting the already lit button I had pressed.

"Ah, you must be Uchiha-san's newest housekeeper," she said raspily, peering up at me through her thick bottle cap lens glasses, and I blinked. Uchiha-san? _Housekeeper_?

I… I guess that is all that I am to him now, really, but her tone and assumption suggested that there had been many before me. And what was with the honorific?

"Does he get many of them?" I queried, the elevator beginning to move up slowly if the churning in my stomach was any indication, and she nodded sagely.

"Oh yes; he has to hire a new one every few days! I asked him about it about a week ago, and he told me that ever since his wife was killed in that _terrible_ car accident he's been trying to find someone to keep his suite clean while he works. But he's been having problems with laziness, thievery… even sexual harassment!" she whispered the last part in horror, and my eyes widened.

"One of the housekeepers messed with Itachi's children?" I asked, absolutely sickened, but she shook her head in amusement, tutting.

"No, no, dearie, they harassed _him_. He is quite a charming man, after all; very charismatic, very powerful, very rich… and quite the looker, if you ask me," she cackled in good humor, and I chuckled with her.

"Well, he has nothing to fear from me," I said, fingering my wedding ring (I had almost taken it off, ashamed to be wearing it when Itachi wasn't, but I had forced myself to continue to bear it; I had made a promise), and she looked down at the motion before looking me over critically.

"Ah… when did you lose him?" she asked, eyes filled with sympathy, and I stared.

"Who said I lost my husband?" I asked, and she smiled wanly.

"Your expression, dearie. You have a great deal of sadness in your eyes for someone so young," she said, and I looked down at my shoes.

"…I lost him a month ago, in the same crash that took Itachi's wife."

Her eyes widened, and she looked me over again before nodding. "You must be Itachi-san's sister-in-law then. I thought your hair triggered a memory, but I couldn't be sure. He speaks highly of you and mentions you often when we chat. I have also met your departed husband; a very nice young man, respectful and sweet. It is a pleasure to meet you, even if the circumstances are not what either of us would have wished, I'm sure."

I shook my head, wondering why Itachi would bring me up in a conversation with a woman that I had never met before in my life. Probably just referencing to me while talking about his brother… "No, no, it is a pleasure, really."

She inclined her head regally before fixing me with a strange expression. "Now, if you don't mind me asking… why are you coming to live with Itachi-san?"

My mouth twitched up at the corner and I sighed. "Well, we came to an agreement on the subject of his needing assistance and me needing to move on. I'm sure you know that he has many responsibilities, and he was worried about the deteriorating condition of my nephews. I am coming to be a comforting presence and general housekeeper, I suppose, and he is letting me stay with him until I can figure out what I am going to do now."

The elevator pulled to a halt at the twenty-fourth floor, the doors sliding open, and my companion started to move towards the newly revealed hallway, giving me a strange, secretive look.

"Oh, I should think that you will be a little more than a housekeeper to Uchiha-san, dear," she said before laughing wheezily and moving away, the doors closing behind her and the elevator jerking to life again, continuing its ascent to the next floor.

I stared incomprehensibly at the closed doors, mind whirling. What did she mean by that? Was she saying that, even though my husband had died and technically we were no longer related, Itachi and I would still be family? She might think that, but I disagreed. I was merely a friend to him now; maybe not even that. I was here to, basically, cook and clean and take care of his kids until he no longer needed me.

Why did that make me feel so sad?

I shrugged it off, lugging my suitcases and trolley out of the machine and onto the new floor as the doors opened again for me (thank god; I could hear the cables on the elevator groaning as they moved and if I had stayed on a second longer, I'm sure they would have snapped and sent me hurtling to an untimely death). There were only two doors in the tiny hallway outside of it; one leading to the stairwell and the other to Itachi's apartment. He had the whole floor, and the one above it, to himself.

That was going to be fun to clean.

I sniggered, digging into my jacket pocket and withdrawing a ring of keys. My smile faded as I looked them over, gaze flicking over the multitude of cool metal objects lying in my palm. He had said that there were two separate keys, one for the dead bolt and one for the regular lock, and he had pointed them out to me twice before pulling away to sort out the matter of my parking arrangements, but looking at all of them… I couldn't remember which was which.

There had to be at least fifty keys here…

I sighed, glaring at the ceiling above me before starting to slowly try all of the keys. God really must hate me… I spent a good ten minutes going through them all, succeeding in finding the one for the deadbolt (a long silver key with a deadhead on it) and was just going through the ring again, despairing finding the one for the doorknob, when the elevator dinged behind me and opened to reveal a very annoyed looking Itachi.

He came to stand next to me, looking over my awkward attempts to open his door with a staid expression (I determinately ignored him, too embarrassed with the situation to want to acknowledge him) before smirking slightly and leaning down.

"It's the one with the red key guard," he whispered, and I looked down at the keys to try to find the one he was talking about.

"But I already tried that one. It wouldn't even go in."

He chuckled quietly, leaning against the wall next to the nameplate that announced his apartment number. "You have to put it in upside down."

I raised an eyebrow, inserting the key upside down and turning it, then listening to the mechanics of the knob click as it unlocked.

Well, that made me feel really smart.

Clenching my jaw at the amused chuckle the man next to me let out, I pushed the door open and started trying to drag the heavy cart through the doorway, succeeding only in getting it stuck in the jamb and then continuing to embarrass myself even further by pulling on it fruitlessly. After a few moments of watching me struggle Itachi slapped my hands away from the trolley with a roll of his eyes, pushing the cart through the door with little trouble.

I pouted at that before following him into his home, closing and locking the door behind us. I had always been amazed by his apartment; the huge, open space was a gorgeous atmosphere filled with only the best furnishings that were, strangely, traditional and contemporary at the same time.

Itachi was very proud of his heritage, and this showed in the sheer amount of Uchiha clan symbols he had decorating his home (there was at least one in every room) and the clusters of photographs lining the hallway after the front door but before the living area. His entire family was represented, up until about seven generations previous to this one, and left off with a portrait of Sasuke, Itachi, and myself at my wedding.

I stopped, doing a double take of the photos. Something was different; these had been rearranged since I had been here last. I looked them over carefully and realized what the difference was; any photo that had contained Itachi's wife had been removed.

I pressed my lips together, turning sympathetic eyes to the retreating back of my friend. That poor man… he must not be able to stand being reminded of his loss… I could understand that, even if I wasn't taking the same steps as he was.

I had every single photo that I had of Sasuke with me, all hidden in one of the boxes on the cart that was now sitting unattended in the middle of the living room.

I blinked as I looked at the abandoned trolley quizzically, tilting my head and wondering where Itachi had run off to. I walked over to it, running my finger over the edge of one of the boxes, and then noticed what were obviously the sounds of a heated conversation coming from the kitchen. Judging from the low, threatening tenor that Itachi's voice had taken on, he was angry about something, so I strolled over to the doorway cautiously, to see what was going on, and was immediately seized by a large blue skinned man.

I know what you're thinking: this man is 1) an alien, 2) an oversized smurf or 3) a member of the Blue Man Group. None of these are true, though; Kisame Hoshigaki is the unfortunate victim of inherent stupidity. His mother hadn't known that, by painting herself directly with indigo for the Halloween party she was going to, she would be permanently dying her unborn child's skin and hair blue. He claims that the color makes him look manlier. I say that (with the gill like scars he has under his eyes from getting attacked by a dog as a child) it makes him look like a shark.

"See, Itachi? The flower child has come to support me! She backs my side, I'm sure of it!" the seven foot tall man said, leaning on me heavily, and I struggled not to collapse under his weight as Itachi glared at him from his position by the doorway to the dining room, folding his arms.

"I think that you will find that she doesn't, Kisame. _She_ knows that you can't give an eleven month old child a submarine sandwich and expect him to _eat_ it. Who's going to clean this mess up?" he said angrily, gesturing behind him, and I peered over his shoulder to see what he was talking about before stifling a giggle.

My youngest nephew, Roku, was sitting in his highchair and looking distinctly pleased with himself, covered from head to toe with pieces of meat and cheese. The room directly surrounding him didn't look much better; the curtains behind him were splashed with mustard and tomato juices and the table and floor were coated with torn up bread and lettuce.

The little boy looked uncaring of his predicament, chewing on a piece of the bread staidly while watching us with intelligent eyes. I sighed before shoving Kisame's arm off of the top of my head, making him stagger slightly, and made my way over to clean up the living sandwich.

"God, I doubt your intelligence sometimes, sharkface. And for the last time; I'm as much a hippie as you really are a fish. It's not like I dye my hair this color or hug trees," I said blandly, brushing past Itachi and rounding the table to pull Roku from his high chair.

Kisame spluttered indignantly at the slight on his intellect while Itachi chuckled at the same comment. "Come on now, pinky, that wasn't necessary was it? How was I supposed to know what to feed the damn kid? I've never had to take care of midgets that can't feed themselves," Kisame defended proudly, folding his arms and sticking his nose in the air, and I rolled my eyes as I settled Roku in my arms, brushing a lettuce leaf out of his hair gently while he snuggled close to my chest and looked up at me with a sweet smile.

"Why would you even _consider_ leaving him with your son, Itachi? You know better than I do that he has absolutely no clue how to take care of anything, even himself."

Itachi shrugged, still glaring evenly at his incensed friend and partner. "I thought that it would be safe to trust him for two hours, but apparently I was wrong. The same mistake won't be made again."

I laughed, detaching a small dirty hand from a strand of my hair when the toddler I was holding reached up towards my face. "You know that you'll give him another chance. You always do," I said as I brushed past my brother-in-law, and his gaze diverted to me as I moved into his line of sight.

He watched me in silence for a moment (Kisame had buried his head in the fridge, declaring us both to be unfairly judgmental and that he washed his hands of us) while I sat Roku on the counter next to the sink and started to get as much of the sandwich off of him as I could.

"Would you like some help, Sakura? I have some time to spare before I have to go in to the office," Itachi said suddenly, surprising me into looking over my shoulder at him.

Why did he want to help me? This was the job that he had given me to do. This was all that I was good for anymore...

Shrugging off the strange sinking feeling in my stomach, I smiled at him reassuringly. "No, I can do it. It's what I'm here for, after all… I'm sure you would like to hurry over to the police department as soon as possible anyway; I can't even imagine all the trouble those deputies of yours are causing in your absence. Go ahead; I'll be fine."

His gaze narrowed slightly and one corner of his mouth twitched down. He regarded me intensely for a few moments before nodding his acquiescence. "You are quite correct; if Hidan and Kakuzu haven't destroyed the copy room yet then I'm sure they will soon. Come, Kisame; you have a long ten hours of toll bridge duty to go through to start to make up your debt to me."

A long, agonized groan was heard from the recesses of the refrigerator, and the before mentioned man emerged wearing a pouty look that didn't suit his face at all. "You're not still on about that, are you, 'Tachi? What's a couple bucks between friends, eh?"

Itachi glared at him sharply. "It was _eleven_ _thousand_ _dollars_, Kisame. That's far more than I can allow to just disappear from my pockets, and it will _all_ be paid back. And please refrain from using that abhorrent nickname in reference to me. We've discussed this before; you are not a girl and I am not your lover."

I snorted in amusement at the bland way he said that, picking pieces of ham and turkey from the hair of the struggling and excitedly babbling child I was attempting to clean up and deftly ignoring the eyes that moved over to me at the outburst.

Kisame grandly announced that he was weary of our cruel sniping and walked out of the room with his head held high, but Itachi remained where he was for a few more moments before walking nearly silently up beside me.

I jumped in surprised shock when I turned and saw him there (I had been pouring some soap onto a clean rag so I could get some of the dried mustard off of Roku's hands), and he smirked slightly before turning to his son and leaning over him.

"Roku," he muttered, taking his child's grubby hand in his and drawing the little boy's undivided attention. "Daddy has to go to work now, ok? You be good for Sakura and don't make any more messes today and I'll bring you home a present, alright?"

The little boy smiled brightly up at his father, gurgling happily, and Itachi smiled back warmly before leaning down and kissing his now clean forehead. "That's my boy. I love you."

I bit my lip at the sheer affection I heard in his voice, turning away and looking determinately at the soapy rag in my hand to belay the tears. Why did it hurt so much? I had never begrudged him loving his children before… maybe it was because I had been denied such a chance. I didn't know, but I didn't like feeling this way.

I felt petty and incorrigible.

I made a mechanical response as Itachi reminded me that I could call him at any time if I needed something; I don't really know what I said. I couldn't even look at him as he walked out of the room and, after a few moments, out the front door as well, Kisame firmly in tow behind him.

While I dragged my exulting nephew to the nearest bathroom for a bath, I couldn't help but wonder how it would have felt to be bathing my own child, to listen to my husband say goodbye to his son, to get my own farewell kiss as he went off to work while I held the symbol of our love in my arms…

And I wondered how it would feel to not feel guilty about the fact that it was my fault that those things weren't happening.

* * *

The funerals were held the week after I made myself at home in my brother-in-law's penthouse.

I sat beside Itachi in the family section of the chairs set up beside the polished oak coffins, the only people besides Itachi's parents and his children in this area of the seating. I held on to his hand tightly as the pastor of the local Christian church (I have no idea what sect he was from; I care little for religion) read a prewritten eulogy, my fingers trembling as I avoided looking as the tightly locked enclosure my departed love lay in.

He allowed the gesture easily, giving no indication of being uncomfortable and, when I started crying as they started lowering the caskets into the graves, he even wrapped his arm around my shoulders and let me bury my face in his chest, surely staining his expensive suit with my unstoppable tears.

He just sat there with me, his arms around my shaking frame and the side of his head resting against the top of mine… I've never felt more grateful to anyone than I was to him right then.

He tried to encourage me to come with him and the kids to some sort of get together with his family afterwards, but I declined, returning to his home and locking myself in my room. I needed some time alone with my thoughts, and I wanted to be able to cry without being looked at with pity. Just today I would let myself be weak. Surely that wasn't too much to ask of someone who had lost everything. One day of failed control…

And then I would face the world with a positive yet false smile and be strong.

* * *

The next seven months were completely dedicated to the task I had been given; the care and wellbeing of my two nephews. Things were fairly normal for living with the chief of the police department (though the strange feelings of longing and heartache persisted); I don't know what I had expected, but there was never any crime or violence like there had been in both places Sasuke and I had lived before and it surprised me for some reason. Kenji spent most of the weekdays at school (despite the fact that he was only five he was exceptionally intelligent and was already in first grade) so it was only me and Roku at home all day.

It wasn't difficult to regale the child, fortunately; it's not that he was easily entertained more like easily pleased. He was as content to play hide and seek with me as he was to go do the family's grocery shopping.

The weekends were spent at the various parks and places of interest around and surrounding the vast city; more often than not Itachi joined his children and I on these excursions. This didn't really make sense to me; every time Alora had talked to me about Itachi's work habits (we had been fairly close) she had firmly insisted that he spent every possible moment at the office, going on the weekends, every hour of the day and sometimes even staying the night.

If that was the case, then why was he never at work for more than ten hours a day on weekdays (he took Saturday and Sunday off completely), and why had he informed me that I was not to accept any phone calls from the police department after he returned from work at five in the evening or anytime during the weekends so he could avoid extra hours and spend time with his children in peace?

Perhaps she had merely been exaggerating… or the shock of his loss had forced him into realizing he could no longer afford to be so distant from his family and he had changed his ways. Either way, it didn't change the fact that he spent every second that he could with his children, being the father that my husband had never had a chance to be…

It was not often that I allowed such depressing thoughts to run across my mind; I forcedly kept myself completely and utterly busy to avoid the time to think of it. Fortunately Itachi had been right about this being the right way to do so; not long after I arrived, Roku learned how to walk and I was constantly running after him with a broom in one hand and a wet rag in the other. The chores never seemed to end, now that I was cleaning the whole apartment and taking care of two children.

It turns out (much to my eventual chagrin), Itachi hadn't intended for me to be his housekeeper at all. I was very surprised to wake up one morning, very shortly after I had moved in, to find someone mopping the kitchen floor and three other unknown people scattered around the rest of the apartment, the backs of their shirts announcing that they belonged to a company known as The Merry Maids.

Naturally, I sent them packing.

Itachi came home early that evening, having received a very angry call from The Merry Maids about the crew members that they had deployed to his home being dismissed from their duties very early and very rudely. He had merely been curious as to the circumstances initially, but flew into a rage when he saw that the apartment was clean without the assistance of hired help, and that the culprit (me) looked distinctly bedraggled, was exhaustedly spread out on the kitchen floor, and smelled strongly of cleaning solution.

I wasn't used to seriously fighting with men; my and Sasuke's personalities had never really clashed in a bad way and while Naruto and I had had minor disagreements, they paled in comparison to the knockdown, drag out fight I had with Itachi.

Apparently he didn't appreciate me "treating myself like a slave" and "refused to let me reduce myself to such a level" (these are exact quotes), and he let me know it quite clearly. I firmly insisted that it was him that said I had to have things to do and that cleaning was something that I liked doing, so leave me alone and let me do it (these are _not_ exact quotes; I try to censor my language when I can).

Evidently, he also doesn't like being told what to do.

It went on like that for the better part of an hour, neither of us able to gain any ground as we traded arguments in raised voices, before he finally let out a frustrated sigh, flicking his bangs from his still narrowed eyes, and made a deal with me; if I wouldn't clean the whole place all at once like I had today, then he would let me be. It was agreed to with much grumbling, and we each stalked away from each other with angry clouds over our heads, still livid from the heated quarrelling.

This was by no means the last fight that we had. It wasn't like we fought a lot or that they were necessarily _bad_… we just butted heads over various nuances on occasion (mostly due to something that I did) and we weren't very quiet about it. It was difficult to explain why; neither of us were instinctually confrontational people. I could count the very minor disagreements that I had had with Sasuke on one hand, and Alora had told me that Itachi and her never fought over anything whatsoever.

I once heard it said that those that fight the most are the ones that are the most alike in nature and, naturally, are more compatible than those that don't fight at all. This made no sense to me; Itachi and I are nothing alike, really. I've also heard that fights between friends of opposite sexes often lead to passionate romances (complete and utter _crap_. The saying, not the romance), so you can probably guess the ease with which I dismissed both philosophies.

Nevertheless, despite the occasional emotional turmoil here and there (my wedding anniversary was a particularly excruciating day to go through and knowing that Sasuke wouldn't be turning another year older as his birthday passed hurt more than I would have thought) and the fact that Itachi's "I-could-care-less-about-anything-other-than-my-ki ds-and-job" attitude was really starting to wear me down (I still don't know why it bothered me, but that didn't stop my heart from sinking every time he walked out the door without saying goodbye to me or just completely ignored me when I was sitting right across the room from him), I could tell that the original intention for me being here was working; I was getting better.

For the most part I could keep my thoughts focused on things other than my losses and my pain, I felt no desire to hide and refuse contact with others, I started writing again… the only thing that I refused to change was the circle of white gold metal on my left ring finger. I had made myself, and my husband, a promise that I would keep for the rest of my life, so I would wear the symbol of that for just as long.

On this note, I must comment on the strangeness of being technically single again. I had started dating Sasuke when I was sixteen and I hadn't been available since then; it was weird, after five years of monogamy, to suddenly be considered free game. The conundrum of me wearing my wedding ring made interested men shy away from me still, but any that actually knew that I was widowed (or asked about it) seemed to care less that I didn't wish to move on and made their attentions quite apparent. Foremost among my admirers was Sasori Akasuna, the doorman and, apparently, famous ventriloquist (among certain circles, he was known as the Puppet Master).

He wasn't flirty or indecent like his predecessor had been (he was actually very considerate and conserved in his pursuit of me), but he made his intentions clear the very first time I stumbled out of the stairwell into the lobby, on the way to find a store that sold banana-berry cream pie.

He approached me directly, informed me of his admiration of my beauty, and expressed his desire to get to know me better. He was a smart man, evidently; he had known that I would resist beforehand and made sure that I understood that he was content to remain friends until I overcame my grief, but as soon as he was sure that I had recovered he would make his move.

I wasn't sure that a day like that would ever come, but he seemed unerringly confident about it so I let him believe what he wished and struck up the requested friendship.

All in all, I could easily say that life was looking up again. Perhaps the realization of this was what led to another, much worse insight…

One that would lead me nowhere but down again.

* * *

I remember the moment that I came to realize why I felt so empty and cold when Itachi showered his children with love and affection and gave me nothing but half-friendly conversations with perfect clarity.

I recall it better than anything else I ever have in my life because of the sheer wrongness of it. The guilt and the shame were almost too much to bear, and I spent at least two weeks afterwards crying myself to sleep at night.

How could I do such a thing…?

The reason that I stared after my friend when he walked away, the reason why I watched my brother-in-law almost constantly when he wasn't looking, the reason that I dreamed of his touch and imagined him wanting me…

I was falling in love with him.

I clutched the broom I was leaning on heavily even tighter, keeping my gaze on the small pile of debris I was supposed to be sweeping up and listening to Itachi as he talked to Kenji and helped the now six year old boy with a math problem he hadn't understood completely. Even the sound of his voice made my heart ache, made me wish he was talking to me with that loving lilt to his tone.

_God_, how I disgusted myself.

I had tried more than once to convince myself to stop seeking his affections. To stop doing everything I could to talk to him, to catch his eye, to get him to notice me as more than what I was to him… I had cursed myself for my pitiable actions, berated myself for thinking of my husband's brother so obsessively… but I could not stop myself. No matter what names I called, nor what emotional pain I inflicted by thinking of the disappointment Sasuke would have in me…

Every time I saw him again, my thoughts would tumble and twist and all that I could see, hear, and think afterwards was _him_.

I also attempted to persuade my guilty conscience that I was only trying to find a replacement for Sasuke, that I was turning to the man who most resembled him in the world, but this was not the case. I reveled in the differences that resounded between the two men, making myself sick as I dreamed of how Itachi's long, thick hair would feel between my fingers and wondered how different it would feel to be with a man so intimidating and powerful and…

I shuddered, pushing the thought away forcibly. If there was one thing I could make myself do, it was resist thinking of sleeping with him. I had not sunk so low as to go to those lengths yet, but no doubt that would change soon. I was so sickeningly obsessed with him that even that disgrace could not be too far away. I figured that the only chance that I had to avoid it… was to avoid him.

That was why I was doing my best to stay in completely different rooms than him at all times.

I was shaken from my thoughts as I heard footsteps approaching my position in the kitchen, so I hurriedly swept the small pile of dirt beside my foot into the dustpan I held, leaned the broom against the counter, and fled through the door opposite the nearing sounds. I could only assume that it was the man in question, seeing as no one else in the house (besides myself) weighed enough to make the required noise, so I had no choice but to beat a hasty retreat. I really didn't need any more remorse piled on my shoulders than there already was by staring at him shamelessly as he tried to find himself a snack in peace.

I pulled my bedroom door closed behind me, leaning against it and squeezing my eyes shut, avoiding looking at any of the pictures of my departed spouse that hung on the walls. I could barely stand the gaze of the printed eyes anymore; the looks that used to be loving and amused had now turned sharp, accusing, and cold… like the pictures knew what I was thinking when I stayed up late, staring into space and wondering if the man I was growing to adore would ever notice me.

Like they knew that I was slowly but surely betraying my husband and forgetting the promise I had made.

I dropped my head into my hands, letting silent tears flow from my eyes and not so silent sobs escape from my lips as confused feelings of guilt and longing flowed through me at the same time. I had fallen in love again a mere ten months after my husband had died… I was the worst sort of person that there was in the world. What was wrong with me?

I was here to care for children and instead of doing all that I could to keep peace with their father, I was doing everything possible to avoid him because I wanted nothing more than to have him look at me like he looked at them…

I sank to the floor, cradling my head against the tops of my knees. Oh, god…

What had I _done_?

* * *

And my depravity only got worse from there.

For some unknown reason, as the year progressed and fall turned to winter, Itachi started to grow closer to me. He would sit next to me as I watched television or read a book, went out of his way to talk to me while we were out with the kids on the weekends or while I was straightening up the house and called regularly while he was at work to make sure that everything was alright and that I wasn't over working myself… he even brought flowers home for me a couple times when he went to the store to get groceries and made dinner himself on my birthday.

His attentions didn't escape my notice (since his efforts pretty much nullified my attempts to avoid him), and I couldn't help but wonder at his sudden change in habit. Perhaps he was lonely and wanted the company of his housemate; I couldn't blame him for that. I highly doubted that he got many intelligent conversations out of Kisame. Perhaps the fact that I had started to seclude myself had made him think I was falling into a depression again and he was forcing his company on me so that I would not relapse. But there was a small part of me that insisted that his growing closeness to me indicated that he was becoming attracted to me.

I'm sure I don't need to explain why I tried to ignore that small part most of the time.

The times that I couldn't push the thought back (mostly directly after Itachi had done something especially thoughtful for me) made me realize that I was growing even more deeply in love as time progressed. My heart would pound erratically when he looked in my eyes, my stomach would twist into lovesick knots as he paid me a compliment I didn't deserve, and worst of all… I didn't feel bad about my rampantly amorous thoughts until hours later.

Even when I wasn't secretly fixated on the reason for him to suddenly be so much more attentive towards me, I was now supplied with endless opportunities to watch him and obsess over him and think about having him for myself, and I hated it just as much as I loved it.

I spent night after night wondering why he had changed, why he had made it so easy for me to deepen my affections for him instead of continuing in his almost cold routine of earlier in the year. I couldn't come to any sane conclusion, so I stopped thinking of it altogether and, reluctantly, let myself enjoy it.

It was, for this reason, that the repetitive movements of the brush through my hair were more jerky and excited than they normally would have been.

It was Christmas Eve, the sun setting outside my window signaling the closing of the day, and soon, Itachi would be taking his children and me down to Central Park for the annual Christmas festival. I knew that this evening was mostly for the enjoyment of the kids, but I also knew that I would be with the man I was growing to love for at least three hours tonight and my heart was soaring.

A smart knock sounded on the wood of my closed door, and when I called for the person to enter, Kenji came in, closing the door behind him and coming to sit behind me on my bed.

"Father says that we're leaving in five minutes," he said, swinging his legs and watching me through the reflection of the mirror I was looking in. I smiled back at the miniature replica of my brother-in-law, clipping my bangs up and reaching for my winter hat.

"Alright, I'm almost ready. What did you read about today?" I could practically feel the warmth of his excitement on the subject, and he instantly began to tell me the tale of Alice in Wonderland.

Over the past few months, I had forged a close relationship with the intelligent young boy. After discovering that I was a writer, he would more often than not spend his evenings talking to me (and his father; mostly because Itachi was always conveniently located right next to me) or would request for me to tell one of my stories to him (he wasn't like most boys his age, content with goofing off; he was highly interested in expanding his knowledge and detested time wasting amusements like games and movies).

After school was over and he had done his homework he would join me in my room while I wrote on my computer and tell me about things that he had read about and that his teachers had told him and in return I would tell him things about the world or history. We grew to have a mutual understanding of each other, and the friendship we gained was one of respect and silent admiration for one another.

When he was done (he had only gotten halfway through the book today) I stood up and tossed my scarf around my neck, and he raised an eyebrow. "You really were almost ready. Every time mother said that she took another half an hour."

I shrugged, leading the way out of the room and shutting the light off as he exited. "Your mom was a very glamorous woman, Kenji; she enjoyed looking her best at all times."

He looked askance at me as we walked down the hallway together. "I guess so… but she got ready different than you too. She always put makeup and stuff all over her face. Why don't you?"

I laughed, grabbing on to the back of Roku's shirt as he tried to run past me when we entered the living room, scooping up and slinging the giggling toddler over my shoulder. "I don't really like wearing it anymore. I used to a lot, but your uncle Sasuke told me that he liked me better without it. And besides…"

"She doesn't need it to look beautiful."

We both looked up as Itachi came to stand next to us. He was looking down at me with a warm smile lifting his lips, and my cheeks flushed unwillingly at the unnecessary compliment as Kenji's head tilted, not fully understanding. "But mother always said that women needed it to look good. Aren't girls _supposed_ to wear it?"

Itachi shook his head, taking a squirming Roku from me and starting to try to wrest the child into his winter coat. "That was something that your mother never understood. Some women do need to wear makeup; they have what is referred to as manufactured beauty and they are the most numerous kind of woman that you will find. Some wear it to enhance their natural looks and have what is known as accentuated beauty; they are a little harder to find, and even harder to distinguish from the rest of the riff raff. But a select few have what is called true beauty; they could roll out of bed and look more stunning than any diamond. When you get older you will understand, Kenji, but know this; if you find a woman who is truly beautiful, never let her escape you."

Kenji rolled his eyes, shrugging into his own coat as I did the same. "All the girls at school are stupid, father. They do nothing but giggle and play and act silly all the time, and I have no patience for such things. Besides, none of them are pretty at all. If they were more like Sakura…" He stopped suddenly, his cheeks coloring slightly, and I smiled down at him happily while Itachi chuckled.

"They will grow, son. Someday you will see that, but don't concern yourself with it for now. Do you have your gloves?" he asked, zipping up Roku's coat and slipping a hat over the boy's unruly black hair, and Kenji waved his gloves to show that he had them.

Nodding, Itachi patted his pockets to make sure that he had everything he needed. "Are you ready, Sakura?" I nodded, heart still flipping excitedly at the fact that he had not so subtly called me beautiful, and he pulled the front door open in response. "Let's get going then. We don't want to be late."

We all filed out after him, me sidling up behind Kenji and leaning down to whisper in the still blushing boy's ear. "I used to be like those girls too, Kenji."

He looked back at me in surprise as Itachi locked the door one handed, hanging on to the hood of Roku's coat with the other to keep him from escaping. "You were? But… you're so smart and interesting and…" his cheeks flushed again, and I shook my head, patting the top of his head comfortingly.

"It's like your father said; they will grow up and become women soon. While it is true that not many will be like I am, they will get better."

He considered this for a moment before nodding and glancing over at the stairwell behind me meaningfully.

I grinned before jerking my head at Itachi. "Ask your dad first."

He instantly turned and pulled on Itachi's sleeve, drawing the man's attention away from his keys. "Father, can me and Sakura take the stairs? Please?"

He smiled in response while I fixed the boy's collar where it was sticking up at the back. "It is Sakura and I, Kenji, and when making a request you say may, not can. But yes, you may take the stairs as long as you are careful. No banister jumping this time."

The little boy nodded energetically before whooping and scurrying over to join me beside the stairwell door. Itachi's lips lifted as he watched his son's enthusiasm dotingly before his gaze raised to meet mine, the expression on his face changing little.

"We will meet you in the lobby shortly. Make sure he doesn't get too excited, won't you?" I nodded, and he smirked, saying "You be careful too" before turning away and pressing the button that would hail the elevator.

I stared atfter him for a moment with a light, pleased flush on my cheeks before looking down at the excitedly hopping boy next to me. "Ready?"

He nodded, tensing into a rigid position. "Set."

He muttered, eyes narrowing beneath the bangs that hung in his eyes, and I smiled before shoving the door open and sprinting into the space beyond, shouting "GO!"

We raced down the flights of stairs as fast as we could, occasionally slipping and tripping over our own feet as we descended the steps, laughing hysterically the entire time. I let him pull ahead as we got to the second floor, and when we burst through the door leading into the lobby, we both collapsed against the wall in exhaustion, clutching stitches in our sides and giggling wheezily.

Luckily no one but the doorman was present at the time, or we would have been getting stared at. As it was, Sasori merely smiled knowingly (this wasn't the first race down the stairs the young boy and I had had by a long shot) and walked over to join us.

"I see that Kenji has won yet again… you must run very fast to best Sakura so often," he said, giving me a sideways glance, and I gave him a secretive smile as the little boy beside me swelled proudly.

"Yes sir! Even if she is bigger than me, I still beat her every time!" he crowed happily, and Sasori nodded sagely before turning to me with a wry grin.

"Heading out to the festival?" he asked, and I nodded, brushing the braid that had fallen over my shoulder back.

"Yeah, the kids missed it last year and apparently, Santa's reindeer are going to be there tonight. Can't afford to go without going this year." He smirked at my excited tone as Kenji went over to the water fountain the lobby offered to get a drink.

"I assume that Mr. Uchiha took the elevator with young Roku?" he inquired, folding his arms over his chest comfortably, and I made a noise of agreement while keeping an eye on Kenji, who was eyeing the ten foot tall Christmas tree in the middle of the room.

Sasori nodded in response before getting the conniving look in his eye that I associated with his frequent attempts to charm me.

"You look lovely tonight, Sakura," he said easily, eyes respectfully dropping no lower than my face, and I looked at him reprimandinglly.

"Thank you, Sasori. I appreciate the compliment, even if it is unnecessary."

He shrugged. "I merely state the facts. You truly are an angel among demons, and not a day goes by that your beauty doesn't amaze me."

I blushed at his words, turning my face away in embarrassment. I really wished that he wasn't so interested in me; I wanted to be able to remain celibately focused on my husband (and secretly focused on Itachi), but his efforts could not be avoided without being rude… and it's not like I didn't enjoy his attention. I am a red blooded woman, after all; what female doesn't like to be complimented?

"Please, Sasori, you flatter me too much. I'll get a big head if you continue with this waffle."

He laughed, his dark brown eyes twinkling in his amusement. "Hardly. I could stand here and pay you compliments all day and your ego wouldn't get one iota larger. That's one of the things that makes you so special…" he said, pointedly taking a step closer, and, to my credit, I didn't step back. "Have you thought about my offer yet, Sakura? You said that you would," he asked softly, looking down at me through his eyelashes, and I bit my lip.

A few weeks ago he had stopped me upon returning to the condominium building from getting a replacement battery for my laptop and informed me with great dignity that he desired to take me out on a date. The day would be up to me to decide, and even though I told him that I wasn't ready to start seeing men in that context yet, he warned me that he would not give up, even if he had to wait for five years.

I'm still not sure what had driven him to make his move; perhaps the evidence of me growing more and more infatuated with my brother-in-law every passing day was clearer than I had thought that it was.

I swallowed thickly, finding it hard to meet his searching and expectant gaze. "I'm sorry, but I really haven't. I'm still not sure about my feelings regarding this…"

He nodded, understanding immediately. "It's quite alright, Sakura… I will wait as long as I have to for you to be ready."

He reached a hand up, taking the end of my scarf in his hand and wrapping it around my neck gently. When I looked askance at him for the action, he merely shrugged, fingers lingering on the material wrapped around my throat.

"Women are such forgetful creatures… I can't have such a work of heavenly art catching cold." His eyes moved over my shoulder to something behind me then, and he backed away a step. "I'm afraid that I must return to my work, however. Have a good evening, Sakura."

With that, he walked back to his desk, though I could tell he was smirking at the blush that had risen to my cheeks at his casual touch.

"You have fun tonight too, Kenji." He called out, and the little boy turned to look at him from where he was leaning over to look at one of the brightly colored baubles hanging from the Christmas tree.

"Thank you, sir! I will!" he said smartly before coming over to stand next to me, the doors to the elevator sliding open right at that moment.

Itachi stepped out, guiding Roku out in front of him while looking over both Kenji and I. "So who won this time?" Kenji immediately raised his hand and waved it enthusiastically, leading the way as we walked to the side door that led to the parking garage located off of the building.

"I did again! I didn't even cheat this time, father, and I _still_ beat Sakura. Mr. Sasori said that I must run very fast, and…" he stopped suddenly, turning to look at me with his head tilted to the side and his hand resting on the bar of the door that lead outside.

"What was Mr. Sasori doing to you before he went back to his desk?" he inquired, and I felt more than saw Itachi turn his attention to me as well.

I blushed lightly, reaching up to touch my scarf. "I put my scarf on wrong and he was helping me fix it. It's nothing to worry about, Kenji."

He made a noise of understanding before walking out the door and holding it open for the rest of us.

Itachi let Roku run through in front of me before snagging my arm, halting my progress through the door. "Is that all that happened, Sakura?" he whispered, holding on to my elbow tightly, and I nodded, for some reason feeling that revealing Sasori's true intentions wouldn't be the best idea.

"He was just being thoughtful." I said, and his eyes narrowed.

"Was his _thoughtfulness_ welcome?" he asked, voice deepening, and I looked back at him with wide eyes, heart beating faster under his intense and heated gaze.

I didn't get a chance to answer him, because Kenji called after us at that moment, wondering aloud as to why we were taking so long, and Itachi released me and exited the door without another word. I stared after him for a minute, not understanding the emotion I had seen in his eyes as he had turned away. Was he…

Jealous?

I scoffed immediately, shrugging the exchange off and walking out the door as well. My overly enamored mind must be making me see things now… there was just no way that he would be bothered by something like me being pursued by another man. He might reprimand me for moving on so quickly, for forgetting his brother so easily, but other than that…

He wouldn't care.

I tried not to be too downhearted by this realization as I followed after my impromptu family, the young boys fidgeting excitedly as they waited by the back doors of my car (Itachi's sports car had a backseat, but he preferred to take my car when we were taking the kids places. It was a lot safer). I dug my keys out of my pocket and tossed them to Itachi, and his hand reached out and caught them expertly, even with his back turned.

We had come to mutual understanding (after two straight hours of fighting over it) that he would drive while he was with us, and even though I wasn't happy with it, I allowed him to have his male pride in this instance (it was already bad enough that he had to be seen in a Prius; I wouldn't put him through the embarrassment of having to be a passenger while a woman drove as well).

Once the kids were buckled in to their seats, Itachi and I were settled in our own, and the blush from Itachi holding my door open for me had receded (it had become an unspoken custom of his and never failed to make blood rush to my cheeks) we set off into the night, navigating the busy New York streets and slowly but surely making our way to the festival.

You could tell from just listening to the tenor of our friendly comadre that we were all excited (I suppose you couldn't call Roku's one worded exclamations talking, exactly, but he got his point across well enough with cries of "Santa!" and "Christmas!"), and it seemed to literally take forever to make our way to one of the already packed parking lanes lining Central Park. But once we had manage to wrest ourselves from the car and out onto the slush covered sidewalk leading towards the bright lights and explosive sounds of the festival, all else but the wintertime wonderland was forgotten.

We literally had to hold on to the kids to keep them from charging straight into the crowd.

The place had transformed into any child's dream; there were towering ice sculptures everywhere, people in elf costumes running about busily everywhere you looked, vendors selling hot drinks and assorted snacks, and as many games and attractions as could be allowably fit inside the confines of the park.

The children weren't sure where to start first as we went through the entryway into the festival (which happened to be an enormous icy portcullis), so Itachi and I laughingly suggested various locations towards which we could go, and spent the next few hours pushing our way through crowds and spending more of Itachi's money than I thought wise. He didn't even bat an eyelash as he shelled out for game after game, however, merely smiling dotingly as he reached for his wallet while one of his sons looked up at him hopefully.

This wouldn't have bothered me if he had allowed me to buy anything for myself with my own money.

That was another thing that I didn't understand; every time he went out with me and his children, he made it a point to deny me the chance to buy anything myself. It didn't matter if I wanted a new book or a television or just a piece of gum; he refused to let me pay for it and ignored me quite deftly if I made any arguments about it.

I couldn't make any sense out of this habit; I still had an extreme excess of money that I had to spend and he was giving me little to no chance of spending it. _Why_ in the world was he being like this? I couldn't begin to guess, so I usually just shrugged it off with an annoyed grumble.

Despite my discrepancies over that, we had a relatively pleasant evening, positively loaded with excuses to touch, look at, and fawn over my friend. He made it so easy to adore and admire him; his joy over spending the evening with his children and the cold weather left a _very_ attractive flushed and pleased expression on his face the entire evening, and the fact that he seemed utterly conscientious of me with the casual conversations he held with me and the closeness with which he walked beside me made my heart pound erratically, hearts forming in my eyes every time he even glanced at me with those gorgeous, deep grey eyes.

There were a few minor embarrassments to shoulder through, of course… when the vendor we were buying hot chocolate from addressed me as Itachi's wife I nearly shot my drink out of my nose, coughing and spluttering wheezily as everyone around me stared. I wore a heated blush on my cheeks for the better part of twenty minutes afterwards (the images of wearing a wedding band that matched his and going to sleep with him beside me every night did funny things to my stomach… I would be a liar if I said that I didn't love them), made longer by the curious looks Itachi kept shooting me.

Added to that, I also managed to find the only unsalted portion of sidewalk in the entirety of Central Park and slid across it dramatically, arms wind milling uselessly as I tried to regain my balance. Just as I was about to do a total wipeout I found myself held tightly in Itachi's arms, his forehead wrinkled in concern as he pulled me close to his body and asked if I was alright.

I am embarrassed to admit that I stared incomprehensibly, the closeness of our positions emptying my mind of anything but the six inches between our faces.

Luckily, no further accidents or obvious shows of my completely obvious affection occurred (I had a miraculous recovery following my ice sliding incident, springing from his arms and proudly and verbosely declaring myself to be just fine, distracting him from my drooling over his hotness with sheer word power), and when it was an hour and a half past the kid's bedtimes, we agreed that it was high time to return home.

The fact that both children were out cold surely had nothing to do with it.

The park was nearly deserted at this time, most of the families that had been present having returned home long before now (we would have too, but Kenji had insisted that he wasn't tired; not even the stoic, intelligent little boy had failed to be charmed by the spirit and the fun of the holiday and had been reluctant to leave). Itachi and I trekked to my car together in companionable silence, Kenji hanging on to my friend's back and Roku curled cutely in my arms.

"Did you enjoy yourself tonight, Sakura?" Itachi asked suddenly, hitching his son's legs higher under his arms as we walked down the sidewalk.

I looked over at him, shyly and silently admiring his angular, masculine profile. "Yes, I did. I haven't been to one of these things since I was a kid myself… thank you for letting me come with you."

His brow furrowed against the light of the waning moon peeking through the early winter cloud cover, and I looked away just in time to avoid being caught staring at him as he turned to look at me.

"What do you mean, "let you"? You're part of our family, Sakura. You have been for years, and you _know_ that you are more than welcome anywhere that my children and I go. I don't remember you having a problem recalling that a year ago… nothing has changed between us. You're still my friend, even though Sasuke passed on. He might have introduced us, but he wasn't the reason why I forged the relationship that we have. Why is it that you seem to have forgotten that?"

I bit my lip, keeping my eyes on the ground. "I'm sorry. I hadn't thought that it would be a problem to act differently since our common ground had been removed. What time are we waking up to open presents tomorrow?" I said quickly, trying to catch him into a conversation that would make him forget about my answer, but I saw his eyes narrow and his lips thin at my evasion, and I knew from that that I had not only failed at diverting him…

I had angered him.

"Do not attempt to change the subject after saying such a thing, Sakura. You should know better than to believe that such a tactic would work on me," he said in a cold, menacing tone, coming to a halt at the back door of my car. I swallowed nervously as I rounded the back of the vehicle to strap my cargo into his seat, and then took my place in the passenger seat of the car.

A confrontation was surely eminent now… if I tried my best to appease him early, it wouldn't escalate into a full on fight.

I jumped anxiously as the driver's side door slammed closed harder than Itachi normally would have shut it, twisting my fingers together in my lap fretfully as he started the car in the heavy silence and pulled away from the curb.

"Now…" he said quietly, fingers tight on the wheel as he joined the late night traffic. "Explain your answer. Do not try to change the subject again."

I shivered fearfully, peering down at my knees meekly. "I didn't mean to say that. I just spoke without thinking…" I lied, trying my best to make it convincing, but he instantly saw through it, letting out a growl of frustration.

"How many times have I told you that it is futile to lie to me?" he snarled quietly, and I flinched back from the angry slam his fist made as it connected with my steering wheel.

"I… I-I'm sorry…" I stuttered, and he sighed sarcastically, navigating the streets quickly as we got closer to home faster than I was comfortable with. He couldn't yell at me like he wanted to in the close confines of the car with the two slumbering children in the backseat, and he was obviously trying to get to the apartment quickly so that he could.

"I don't want to hear your apologies, Sakura; I have no desire to listen to you make excuses so that you can try to avoid a fight. Explain yourself _now_."

I kept my eyes locked on my knees, shrinking low in my seat. I really wished that I hadn't said that; I couldn't explain to him why I couldn't afford to get too close to him. "I… look, Itachi, I just… I can't… I just thought that it would be what you wanted." I said haltingly, and he slammed on the brakes suddenly, glaring over at me.

"What I wanted? _What I_ _**wanted**_? Why would I _want_ one of my friends to distance themselves from me because of something that happened outside of my control? I've always thought you fairly intelligent, but that comment was completely and utterly idiotic."

He started the car moving again, breathing heavily. "I can come to only one conclusion from what I know you are not, and you are _not_ an imbecile. So tell me; why are you hiding your real reason for that comment behind flimsy falsehoods that don't have a chance of fooling me? Is there something that you are hiding that I need to know?" he queried heatedly, pulling in to my spot in the parking garage of the building we lived in, and I busied myself with extracting myself and Roku from the car in response.

He couldn't continue arguing with me while we were where other people could listen in; he was a very proper man and wouldn't drag others into private matters.

I was thankful for his propriety; it gave me time to find a way to escape his poignant questions.

Even if he refused to continue our disagreement in front of public eyes, he let me know that he was displeased with me quite effectively, glaring at me whenever he had the chance and literally ordering me into the elevator with him. He had obviously been hoping to get me alone, but as it happened, another late night inhabitant of the building stumbled in, unbelievably drunk, so he was forced to wait and endure having his shoes used as pillows.

This didn't serve to improve on his mood any.

I figured, once we had exited the mechanical death trap and were carrying the children past the door and towards their rooms, I would have approximately twenty seconds from when I left Roku's room to get to mine. Itachi made a point of kissing both of his children good night and because Kenji's room was downstairs rather than on the second level like the rest of ours, there would be spare time for me to pretend that I had forgotten that we were having a discussion and lock myself in my room.

Unfortunately, he had already thought of this.

I had just closed my fingers over my doorknob, a victorious smile lifting my lips, when I heard him call my name and ask me to come downstairs in a low, threatening tone of voice that made it clear that it wasn't a request. My shoulders drooped in defeat, and I slowly turned and trudged back down to the main level of the apartment. I found him easily, his position in the middle of the living room commanding complete and utter attention as he glowered at me, arms folded over his chest firmly.

I walked over to join him, standing in front of him with a forced glare of my own. His eyes narrowed dangerously at my expression before he began again.

"You haven't answered me," he said bluntly, and I sneered at him, trying a new route of evasion; cynicism.

"Just noticed that, did you? Good job; I thought I might have fooled the _great_ Itachi Uchiha."

He growled at this, taking a step forward and towering over me formidably. "Your sarcasm isn't appreciated, and neither is it necessary. There is no need to be nasty; just answer the question and I will be appeased."

I scoffed, backing away so that his presence wouldn't be quite so intimidating. "I don't live my life to please you, Itachi," I lied, knowing perfectly well how much I wished that I could just tell him so he could be happy with me, and then turned my back on him in a brave show of haughtiness.

He instantly bristled at this action, his voice rising in his anger at being brushed off. "Don't walk away from me, Sakura!" he snarled, and I glared at him over my shoulder.

"You are not my master, to dictate what I can and can't do. Neither are you my husband, for me to be obligated to answer you in all your meaningless and stupid queries."

He stalked around me, blocking my escape easily. His demeanor was furious and calamitous, and it took a great deal of bravado to not simply beg forgiveness and tell him anything and everything that he wanted to know. As it was, I merely put my hands on my hips and met his scowl with my own. His frown only deepened at this, and his lip curled in his anger.

"Be that as it may, you live in _my_ house and if you want to continue to do so, you'd better answer the goddamn question," he threatened, and my eyebrows rose in a false show of skepticism while fear coiled in my stomach. He had cursed; he must be unbelievably angry… would he really make me leave?

I didn't want to, I _couldn't_; being with my family, with _him_, was all I had.

"Is that an _ultimatum_, Itachi? Give in or leave? Because if it is, then I'll be out by sunrise. Is that what you want?" I said bitingly, hiding my terror over his threat as best I could and hoping to god that it had been a bluff, and he clenched his fists tightly before looking away, his jaw working as he obviously forced back an angry retort that he would regret later.

"No…" he finally gritted out, looking down at the floor hard enough that I was surprised it didn't catch on fire. "No, I don't want you leave. I just want to get along with you every once in a while. Bickering with you over nonsensical subjects doesn't lead anywhere, and I would prefer to reach an understanding rather than argue for hours with neither of us gaining any ground. But for that to happen, one of us has to give…" He looked back up at me, his eyes still cold.

"And I'm not moving."

Unspeakably grateful that he wasn't going to make me leave but still resistant to admitting my feelings, I rolled my eyes, forcing my bravery up a notch so that I could even meet his harsh gaze, much less say what I was about to.

"Well I've got news for you, buddy: I'm not either. So you can stick it where the sun don't shine if you don't like it, because I'm not answering the question and there isn't anything you can do to make me, jackass," I crowed, flipping him off as I spoke, and with that said, I attempted to edge around him, now desperate to escape him and his rapidly darkening presence.

He wasn't about to let me get away with that though, refusing to step out of my way as a dangerous glint manifested itself in his eyes at my acerbic taunt. "I don't care for your attitude, Sakura… and I will not stand to be insulted by you."

I laughed sarcastically, getting a little carried away and speaking without thinking. "Oh yeah? Then do something about it," I challenged, and when his eyes narrowed and his hand darted out, I immediately wished that I hadn't said anything at all.

He grabbed onto my arm tightly and dragged me to his side. "As you wish," he muttered menacingly in my ear before pulling me after him as he stalked over to and up the stairs, me trying to pull myself from his grip with increasingly loud complaints. He resisted my attempts to escape, however, merely tightening his hold on my arm in response.

"I am not a tolerant or forgiving man, Sakura. Your impetuous and foolish boldness on the subject of my morality deserves retribution, and since you insist on acting the part of a child, the only recourse I see is to indulge you," he said harshly as he dragged me onto the landing and over to my closed bedroom door. "You are secluded to your room for the remainder of the night and, if this behavior continues, tomorrow as well. You are not to leave until I say so, and there will be _no_ arguements, or I will see fit to extend your punishment tenfold."

My mouth fell open in pure shock as he jerked my door open and slung me inside, barely catching myself on the end of my bed to keep from falling to the floor. I turned and glared at him, too stunned and furious over his treatment of me to remember that this was not a man to be trifled with. "You can't do that to me, Itachi! I'm twenty-two years old! I'm not a child anymore, and you have _no_ right…"

He gave me a hard look in answer, rife with serious displeasure, and I fell silent immediately, swallowing heavily. He looked appeased by this and set his hand on my doorknob, clearly done debating. "You have shown that you do not deserve to be regarded as an adult, and as such I will treat you as I would an impertinent child. If you do not think that I would take you to task the same way I would a child who had disrespected me after being warned not to, then test your courage; try my patience once more. I am not above confiscating your possessions or refusing you priviledges."

We met each other gaze for gaze for a few moments, his eyes completely staid and mine considering, both of us wondering if I was brave enough to defy him. I decided that I wasn't, in the end, and dropped my defiant gaze to my toes.

I could practically feel his satisfied smirk at my submission while I did my best to keep from acknowledging my situation, humiliated and indignant. "Good girl. Now remember; you are not to leave your room until I tell you to, or there _will_ be consequences. Understood?"

I flushed in mortification over being treated like a disobedient kid, especially by _him_, and nodded minutely while trying my best to preserve my dignity. With my silent acquiescence to his question, he nodded and closed the door behind him, walking audibly down the hallway to his own room.

Once I was sure that he wouldn't return, I glared at the back of the door that veiled him from me, shocked speechless and pissed off that he would _dare_ to treat me in this manner. I mean, I had told him to act against me for my rudeness to him, but I hadn't thought that he would actually do anything, much less put me in a _time out_. I should go out there and tell him exactly what I thought of his coercions, and himself while I was at it, but I hesitated for my own good.

He didn't jest when he was being serious, and if he truly meant what he had said, I had no doubt in my mind that he would ground me to the apartment for a month, just like he had when Kenji had gotten in a fight at school (someone had made fun of his hair).

Not only that, but there was a red hot tendril of warmth low in my stomach from being talked down to, curling around my psyche like a snaking vine; I had never known myself to be a dominance fetishit, but I couldn't pretend I hadn't been slightly turned on by Itachi's aggression... and I wouldn't be ready to face him until I had gotten myself under control.

I couldn't afford to think like this about him. I would lose my mind.

Grumbling unhappily the whole time, I slowly got ready for bed, slamming drawers open and closed in a fit of temper while I did (while at the same time not letting myself be too noisy; I didn't want Itachi to return because I was throwing too loud of a tantrum), silently promising vengeance for what he had done to me. I wouldn't let him get away with thinking he could boss me around (or forceing me to realize I had strange sexual interests), and tomorrow I would find some way to get him back.

That night was a changing point, and I knew it; I just had no idea how much until far too late.

* * *

As soon as I was released from my forced imprisonment on Christmas morning (with a warning look from Itachi and laughter from Kenji) it became apparent that it would be foolish to revenge myself on Itachi if I wanted to avoid extended (or heightened) punishment; I was immediately warned to hold my tongue, advice I was inclined to take due to it being Christmas (I didn't want to ruin the holiday), but was also a little intimidated by Itachi's threat of taking away my computer for the rest of the month.

I would be almost incurably bored, should he be serious about his punishment, so I contented myself with reluctantly apologizing for my behavior the previous night and grudgingly accepting his offer of a truce, allowing the fight to fade without comment and for the holiday to continue without resentment while, in the back of my mind, repressing the flush of excitement that threatened to rise in the face of Itachi's coercion, embarassed to be so belittlingly attracted to being controlled.

More than a month passed with little to no consequence, the schedule that the family had built up flowing flawlessly in our shared home. Nothing changed (the fight hadn't changed my feelings for Itachi, merely adding desperate, bordering on mortifying fantasies of him making me submit to him while being threatened with punishment to my rapidly dirtying dreams), nothing alerted me to the growing trepidation that made my heart grow heavy, and before I knew it, the day I had been dutifully ignoring snuck up on me without me realizing it.

I knew, the second that I woke up on the feared morning, what day it was. The day I had dreaded every day for the past year. The worst day of my life. The day I had lost everything…

January thirtieth.

I wasn't sure how I was supposed to handle it. There wasn't a manual on how to deal with the anniversary of your husband's death, or somebody to tell you how you should behave. I didn't know what to do, so I did what I was able to.

I went to visit Sasuke.

His grave was well kept and neat, his headstone shining dully in the cold midmorning sunlight. The wind whipped my hair around me as I stood at the foot of his resting place, looking somberly over the sight I had seen a thousand times in my nightmares and at least a hundred times in real life. I tried to visit him as often as I could manage without the kids or Itachi knowing, making a quick stop while going to get groceries or a pass by while on the way to pick up Kenji from school. I liked talking to him, pretending that he could hear me from wherever his soul had departed to.

I hoped that he was in heaven; he had been a good person. I would not be joining him… my blatant, sick obsession with his brother would surely bar me from eternal happiness.

_Hey, Sasuke._ I thought, gaze moving over the letters etched in the granite in front of me as I sat in the grass beside the headstone without really reading them. _It's been a year since you passed on now... Ha, I'm sure that you know that. I bet they have calendars, wherever you are._

I sat back against the stone, looking up at the sky as wispy clouds blew over the graveyard. _I wanted to come and see you, to tell you that I miss you… to remind you that I love you… and to say that I am sorry. For the hundredth time, and forever will I apologize… I'm sorry for falling in love with Itachi. I know that I say it every time I come, and that you must be getting pretty tired of hearing it, but you have to believe me when I say that I didn't mean to do it. That I feel like the worst person in the world for doing this to you and putting our vows behind me like this… as long as we both shall live, I said. You trusted me too easily, my love… I never thought I would break that promise._

I sighed, wrapping my arms around my legs and ignoring the glances that the two people down the row of headstones were giving me. _It just makes today even harder, Sasuke… if I could mourn you without regret, then it wouldn't be as difficult. I wouldn't feel like I do now… but I can't even think of you without thinking of your brother as well, and it scares me. I don't want to soil your memory in such a way… I'm sorry that I am weak where you would have been strong. I'm sorry that I can't be the woman that you thought I was. I wish that you were here to tell me what to do, so I could know… but you aren't, and I have no one else to talk to about this._

I bit my lip, lowering my gaze to the wind bowed grass. _I would be ridiculed and shunned if I told anyone that I had fallen for my brother-in-law… I don't know what to do._ Shaking my head, I rested my forehead against my forearm and closed my eyes, sitting alone next to my husband's grave for only god knows how long, trying to think of something I could do to make this better. But when my stomach started rumbling and the sun had risen to the highest pinnacle of the sky that it could reach, I stood and brushed some strands of dead grass from my pants, my mind still whirling and my life still aimless and twisted.

_I have to go now, Sasuke… I'll be back soon. Thank you for listening. I… I love you, sweetheart._ I thought, taking one last lingering look at the headstone before turning and walking back to my car.

I didn't have any idea what I was going to do now. I could drive around, find something to look at to occupy my mind since Itachi had released me from my duties for the day with an express warning to not touch a single cleaning supply again until tomorrow unless I wished to suffer… but I had no desire to be in public any longer. I wanted to hide in my bedroom and wallow in my grief and guilt and misery.

And with all of the control that I seemed to not have, this was exactly what I did.

* * *

_Hoo… geez. If you think this is long, try imagining what it looked like with year two combined with it. XD I was going to have both years together, but it was so frickin long that I separated them. The next one should be out in a few days cuz I'm almost done with it already, so :D_

_Alrighty, drop me a review if you get the chance, and here's to having the next part, Sakura: Year Two, up in two or three days!_


	3. Sakura: Year Two

_Welcome back, reviewers and lurkers alike, and I would like to say that having you here is the highest honor of them all. Your reviews make me sing (not always the best thing that could happen) and your views give me joy like nothing else can. :D Anyways, moving right along here… the warning for this one is angst, inappropriate thoughts, bad language, and explicit sexual content. If you are not old enough to be reading this sort of material, get the heck out of here while you still have your innocence intact._

_Super-duper gay lemon alert: I apologize for the suckish lemon up ahead; it is made of fail. This is because I have never done such a thing before in my life, and, well… yeah. I'm sorry. I promise I'll get better._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. End of story._

* * *

Sakura: Year Two

* * *

"Naruto! Get off my back, you insane idiot! You're crushing me!"

"But Saaakkkuraaaa… I haven't seen you in foooorrreverrrr…"

"It's only been three weeks since we got together last, dickless. That doesn't really quantify the vastness of forever."

"Shut up, you! How many times have I told you not to call me that?"

"Oh just get off of her, you moron! Hinata, control your husband before we have to call an ambulance!"

"Naruto… Sakura can't breathe. Could you get off of her back please?"

My hyperactive blonde friend reluctantly clambered off of me, muttering an apology and patting my hair down where he had made it stick up. I glared at him lightheartedly before shrugging it off and sitting down in the only empty chair at the table for five, my other friends already seated comfortably around the small table in the bar we were at.

It had indeed been three weeks since I had done anything but exchange phone calls with my old friends (the time span had obviously been hard for Naruto, even though it didn't hold a candle to the five months following Sasuke's death that I had completely ignored them all; I'm still not sure if they have entirely forgiven me for that), and it was due to all of them being so busy. I was always ready to hang out with them, but they did not have as much free time as I did. They had college, jobs, and their own families to worry about.

I would not pull them away from that just because I was lonely.

I exchanged greetings with my longtime friends, receiving criticism on my outfit from the ever antagonistic Ino ("What's the matter with you, forehead? Did you dress in the dark? Nothing you are wearing even matches!") and misplaced and unhelpful advice on my new hairstyle from her husband Sai ("I'm going to be the first to say it, ugly… your haircut makes your forehead look huge. You should try cutting your bangs shorter and sweeping them to the side. It'll look less standoffish.")…

Honestly, those two have been made for each other from the beginning.

Hinata, Naruto's wife, gave me a quiet and respectful salutation ("It's good to see you again, Sakura… I hope you are well.") while Naruto himself nearly burst my eardrums with his jovial and overly invasive mannerisms ("Seriously, Sakura, it _has_ been forever! How have you been? Still being awesome? Gotten a new boyfriend yet? Hey, don't look at me like that! I'll get you a date if you can't! If I managed to hook you and the bastard up, then I can get you anyone you want! Believe i… Ow! Geez, Sakura, there's no need to be violent…")

After a round of beer had been ordered (I, as the designated driver, was nursing a ) we filled each other in on what had been going on in each other's lives, detailing the troubles Sai and Ino were having with their three year old daughter ("Sometimes I wonder if histrionics are an inheritable gene. She's an even bigger drama queen than her mother, and that's saying something." "What was that, _sweetheart_? You don't want to have sex for the next two months?" *!* "No, dearest, I just said that our daughter is a lot like you, and there's no one more beautiful or amazing than you are." "That's what I thought you said.") and Hinata's joy over her promotion at the hospital ("Tsunade was so very kind to give me such a big opportunity… I'm still not sure that I deserve it…" "Oh, come on, Hinata! You work yourself to the bone! If granny hadn't given you the promotion then I would have had words with her! Believe it!" "Yeah, and she would probably have kicked your ass for it, idiot." "Shut up, Ino! Granny loooovvveeesss me!").

I had very little input to offer while my friends bickered with each other and made more and more noise as the beer count grew (I didn't really do much that would interest them), and eventually they began to notice my silence. They then turned their full attention to me and constantly badgered me about the tiniest things that I did, not letting me make half ass answers and dragging every ounce of information that they could from me.

The most visited topics were how I was coping with my loss, what I planned on doing now, and if I had found anyone else yet.

I was comfortable enough with revealing my sadness over losing Sasuke for the umpteenth time and with how I was finally seeming to feel better about the subject in general, and I had no problem admitting that once Itachi saw fit to set me free from his care then I would be finding a good college and moving away to start my own career. I was, however, loath to mention the fact that I was falling in love with my brother-in-law, and this didn't escape their notice.

I refused to give in to their coercions on this matter, however; revealing such a depravity would surely earn me nothing but ridicule.

They finally grew too frustrated with the fact I had no intention of revealing who I was interested in, so they merely requested (demanded) a description. I acquiesced to this after thinking about it; none of them knew what Itachi looked like besides Naruto, and he wasn't even paying attention to the conversation anymore, instead engaged in trying to talk his wife into letting him have another beer, which she absolutely refused to let him have ("Naruto, you've already had seven." "Psh… numbers. Who cares about them? Just one more… I promise that I'm fine…" "You're fine, are you? Is that why you twined all of the ketchup packets into your hair?" "Shhh, Sai! She'll hear you!" "…idiot."). I gave them the barest amount of information that I could, elaborating on his features and personality but not letting anything else slip besides that.

The first thing any of them said (of course, it had to be Ino, who had had a very deep crush on my husband) was that this mystery man sounded eerily like Sasuke. Ha…

If they only knew…

The second was that it was kinky that I was looking at a man so much older than myself (Ino again). I had to agree that the age difference between us was quite intriguing and to most outside parties (Ino), this fact could only possibly mean that he would be simply _amazing_ in bed.

I tried not to think about that too much; even though she was probably right about her assumption (surely such an attractive and intelligent man had used his charms to win his way into more than one girl's bed, and as such, he would be highly experienced), I couldn't afford to consider it.

I was already in dangerous waters concerning him… I didn't need to add one-sided lust to my problems.

After that, I disregarded anything that Ino had to say on the matter and spent the rest of the evening alternating between chatting with Hinata, squabbling with Sai ("Your opinion, your opinion… what makes you think that I care?" "I never said that you had to. I was just saying that you're going to be dead before any of your art becomes popular. You'll die penniless and homeless if all you do in life is draw. It's the curse of the true masters, Sai." "Oh yeah? What else am I supposed to do? It's the only thing I'm good at." "Maybe you could do stand-up comedy. You're good at insulting people, why not do it en masse?" "…that's the worst idea I've ever heard."), and poking fun at Naruto, who was steadily becoming more and more amusing as the alcohol drove every inhibition from his mind.

Eventually though (at around eleven fifteen), I had to cut off their drinks and drag them all out to my car, bringing an unfortunate end to the fun of the night. I wanted to give in to their offers of having an extended night at Naruto and Hinata's house, but I couldn't. Itachi had warned me to not stay out past midnight (promising retribution if I ignored his set curfew), and I truly didn't wish to have my computer taken from me.

This amused my drunken friends to no end. They didn't shut up about it the whole ride to Sai and Ino's home ("I _still_ can't believe that you're letting old weasel face bully you like that, Sakura. He's like, your best friend. He's got to be bluffing." "I would rather not take the chance and find out whether he is or not. Get your feet off of my headrest, Naruto." "Geez, where did your legendary bravery go off to, forehead?" "It's not about bravery, Ino… it's about not disturbing the peace. I would like to avoid upsetting the man who I live with, and if it means obeying Itachi like he's my own father, then so be it. Now sit back and do up your seat belt; you're going to get me arrested."), and when I had made sure that the loudest of my occupants had made it into their home safely, I started making my way to my other denizen's house with more ease. Naruto fell asleep almost immediately after Sai and Ino got out, so this left me with a slightly buzzed but overall right-minded Hinata, and a chance to finally talk about what I had been thinking about all night.

The real reason that I had wanted to remain sober and had volunteered for the spot as designated driver. The reason that I had been so excited and insistent to meet with my friends this evening. The reason that I had taken Sai and Ino home first…

I was finally going to find out why I hadn't been able to carry my husband's children.

Hinata, without so much as asking, immediately knew what my tensed shoulders meant. "Sakura… I did as you asked and talked with Tsunade about the circumstances of your abortions. She was happy to look over your records for you, and said that she really wishes that you would reconsider coming back to the hospital. It's not the same without you there."

I bit my lip, keeping my eyes on the dark road. I had quit my beloved job as soon as Sasuke had proposed to me, desiring nothing more than to be a stay at home mother, and the director of the hospital had been nagging at me to come back for more than a year now. I couldn't do it though…

Not when it was Sasuke who had gotten me the job in the first place.

"What did she find out?" I asked sharply, breath strained and quick in my anticipation, and she hesitated for a long moment.

"I-I… are you sure that you want to know? Some things… are better left undiscovered…" My heart stuttered as she spoke quietly, and I was sure, at that point, that the answer was going to be bad.

Perhaps… perhaps Hinata was right… not knowing would be better than hating myself even more… but I couldn't _not_ know anymore. I had waded through a year of research and angst and useless information trying to find out what was wrong with me, and if the knowledge I had been seeking was available…

I had to know.

"I'm sure," I said firmly, ignoring the quaking in my heart, and she nodded hesitantly before looking at her knees.

"The… the circumstances confused even Tsunade. She spent at least a week completely dedicated to the problem, but early in the morning yesterday, she came to her conclusion. There wasn't just one single factor… there were three."

My fingers clenched around the steering wheel as I came to a stop at a red light, waiting for her to continue. Three factors… no wonder I couldn't figure it out myself. "It would have been impossible for anyone who didn't know you so well to figure it out, but… as you know, all that the doctors could tell you in the beginning was that your miscarriages were psychologically linked somehow. That still holds true, but it so much more complicated than that."

"The first factor was the easiest to deduce… fear and self-depreciation are some of the most commonly seen factors that contribute to miscarriages. Tsunade suspects that somewhere within you, because of what happened to your parents, there is the fear of dying when your children are too young to care for themselves. You don't want to do the same thing to your children that happened to you, so your body was, in its own way, protecting them from that. Don't think of it as so much a bad thing as a noble thing, though you do know that if you hope to have a family in the future, something that you are going to have to make yourself realize is that when and how you die is outside of your control. You shouldn't live your life in fear."

I pressed my lips together, blinking tears away from my eyes silently. How had I not seen it? Of course I was afraid of that, but I hadn't thought that it would contribute so strongly that it made me kill my own children…

"The second, and the one that influenced your second miscarriage, was grief. There was a small amount of mourning for your parents that subsidized to the first, but the shock and misery of losing your first child made sustaining another child too much for your body to bear, and the sheer stress caused another abortion. Don't take this too harshly… being sad about miscarrying is the most natural thing in the world, and it's nothing to be ashamed of."

I nodded, having suspected that. It was the number one cause of repeated miscarriages, after all… I was not exempt from that percentage.

"The last, however, was the thing that took her so long to figure out. The first two factors contributed, sure, but they weren't enough by themselves to cause such an unexpected miscarriage. I'm sure you have thought of that already."

Eyes wide, I glanced over at her fearfully, her suddenly grave tone suggesting that the last reason was the worst.

She continued, gaze locked on her knees still. "What she suspects, since she can't confirm it without consulting the study groups, she has only ever personally seen once before in a case like this, and it is, most certainly… troubling. There is a term, in the medical field, called subliminal denial*. It is characterized by the psychological rejection of one object because another is more preferred by the patient's subconscious. Most of the time it is seen in organ transplants or medicinal applications, but it is seen as an unstudied and rare cause of a very small number of miscarriages. Of the five cases that Tsunade could find in her searches, all of them were linked with the fact that the woman, subconsciously, didn't desire to have the male she had mated with's child, but wished to carry another's."

This time, my heart completely skipped a beat.

"W-what? No… no, no, no, that's not possible. I loved Sasuke! There was nothing that I wanted more than to have children with him! She's wrong… t-that's not… she can't be right…" I stuttered brokenly, body shaking and eyes watering at the words my friend had just said.

She shook her head as I pulled to a stop at the side of the road, in too much shock to continue driving. "Sakura… Sakura, it's not any fault of yours. The subconscious mind cannot be controlled and blaming yourself will get you nowhere. All that you need to do is figure out what man your mind wanted over Sasuke and make peace with that fact. What's done is done, unfortunately. But… this man must have been on your mind a lot, perhaps even been present in your life quite often. Do you have any idea who it might have been?"

God…

Yes… yes, I did, and the realization instantly made the tears stopped up in my eyes flow down my cheeks in a torrent, gasps of soul felt, heart wrenching agony falling from my lips as I buried my face in my hands. It could only possibly be one person, and the comprehension of who it was horrified me. How long before I had realized it myself had my mind desired him?

How could I have wanted_ Itachi_ over my beloved?

I sobbed again, my shoulders shaking in misery. This was worse than falling in love with him after my husband had passed on… now, apparently, I had wanted him even while Sasuke was alive. This brought me down to a whole new level of self-loathing and disgust. Where was my self-respect? Where had I gone astray? What was _wrong_ with me?!

Hinata had been right; it would have been better to not know.

Clamping my jaw shut, I pushed back my sadness and wiped my tears away, refusing my friend's tentative offer to drive for me and taking my friends the rest of the way to their home. After helping Hinata drag a muttering and loudly snoring Naruto into their house ("No, don't do that, Hinata… he, he, he… it tickles… no, no… stop… not there…" *O.o* "Is he…_?_" *blushes heavily* "I-I believe so…") I drove home, refusing to let myself crumble in the way that I wanted to while I was in public still.

I barely made it into the apartment in time, the clock over the television set in the living room telling me that I had arrived one minute short of being late. This was a relief, but the satisfaction I felt over thwarting Itachi's devious plans was muted and hollow in light of what I had learned. I can't recall what I said to him as he wished me goodnight; I'm fairly sure that I didn't respond at all. I had no defense against him right now, and just looking at him as he waited for my safe return was achingly painful.

If he knew what I had done, he wouldn't welcome me into his home like he was.

There was little that I could do to keep myself from immediately falling into bed and letting my misery overflow again once I had entered my room, and I really don't think I would have tried if I could have. How much farther could I fall before I destroyed my whole being with this obsession? It couldn't be too much farther… it already felt like I was torn into irreparable pieces. Surely this would be the end of it…

How very wrong I was.

* * *

Oh, _god_.

I didn't just do that. I hadn't let that happen. I didn't let myself imagine that. I hadn't enjoyed it more than anything I ever had before.

_Oh_, _**god**_…

I clutched my bed sheets tightly as I sat up in bed rigidly, gritting my teeth and trying desperately to forget what I had just been vividly dreaming of. I had no business thinking like this of someone who could never be mine, especially _him_. I had no _right_ to imagine him touching me and kissing me and pressing me to my mattress and… and…

I shut my eyes against the images pushing forward through my resistance, shaking my head repeatedly. No, no, no, I couldn't do this. I couldn't allow such a thing to take over my mind…

My control slipped as I opened my eyes and saw how sweaty my skin was, glowing dully under the light coming from my alarm clock and bearing witness to the progression of my debauchery, and the scenes from my fantasy surged forward unbidden.

It had started off just like the completely chance occurrence of earlier that afternoon had; someone had been banging on the front door.

From the echoing crashes of the unknown person's fist on the wood of the door and the loud conversation I could hear from the other side of it ("Fucking hell, you stupid ass shark! Stop knocking so fucking hard! You're gonna fucking piss the captain off!" "Ignore him and keep knocking; time is money. And as for you… just think for a moment, you pious idiot; the faster we get him to answer, the quicker you can go home and worship that head of lettuce in your closet. So stop complaining." "What the fuck did you call Jashin, you zombie bitch?"), I could make a fairly accurate guess that it was Itachi's deputies, Kisame, Kakuzu and Hidan.

And I really didn't want to get out of the bathtub and answer the door for them.

I kept expecting Itachi to go and answer the door since they knocked for almost five straight minutes (Kenji had been firmly instructed to _never_ answer the door by himself, so I knew that he wouldn't get it), but when he didn't and the knocks got louder and louder, I sighed in frustration and sloshed my way out of the tub, wrapping my bathrobe around me and going to go yell at the three most annoying men in the world.

I had just opened my door and started to step out when Itachi's door slammed open down the hallway from mine, and the sight that I witnessed when he stepped out was one that I had never been meant to see. Apparently, Itachi had been practicing his personal hygiene as well and had exited the bathroom in much the same state as I had, but didn't seem to be bothered with covering himself up. In fact…

The only thing he was wearing was a short, white bath towel, held precariously around his hips by one hand.

I had frozen in place instantly, eyes glued to the man's bared and wetly glistening skin as he stalked down the hallway away from me, obviously heading to answer the door. He had looked like a wrathful deity, a destroying angel… _perfect_.

I swear to god that I drooled as I stared openmouthed, watching his lean muscles ripple powerfully as he caught the towel where it had been sliding down, securing it tighter around his waist, and the swinging ends of his ebony locks caught my attention where they brushed against the top of the towel. It was the first time that I had ever seen his hair down from its ponytail, and the way it flowed across his angular face and strong shoulders as he turned sharply to go down the stairs nearly made me swoon.

I had immediately retreated back into my room, shutting the door as quietly as I could so I wouldn't alert the hyper sensitive man to the fact that I had seen him in such a state of undress. I had gone back to my bath in a stupor, sitting in the lukewarm water for longer than I would have if I hadn't been thinking about how mouthwatering he looked without clothes.

Apparently I had thought about it too hard, because my incredibly disgraceful dream had extended the experience.

Instead of simply returning to his own room after chewing his cronies out and sending them on their way, he had come to my room and knocked on the door. I had, for some reason, decided to sit at my desk and write on my computer instead of going back to my bath, and when I had gone to the door to answer him, he had looked down at me in a playfully reproving way, one hand on the doorframe and the other holding his towel up, and told me he had seen me staring at him while coming out of his room.

I had spluttered some sort of denial, but he had silenced me, leaning down and doing the unthinkable: pressing his lips to mine. It had only escalated from there, turning from harmless kissing in the doorway to not so harmless touching in the middle of my room and then to completely reprehensible…

Another surge of undeniable desire curled in my abdomen as I thought of his soft whispers in my ear as he taken my body and hurriedly pushed the thoughts back again, a shudder of disgust jolting through me. It had come to this. My selfish desire for Itachi to love me in return, despite trying to push it back after learning of my unforgivable sin, had transformed, mutating into the ugly creature called lust.

And I had none but myself to blame.

I had gotten too carried away with my obsession with him. I had known that this could happen; that someday I might find myself wondering not how he would react to me admitting to my love for him but imagining what he would think if I dressed a little more skimpily than I would normally allow.

But I had ignored my own wary warnings, continuing on a broken and downward leading path that I had no hope of returning from. And these feelings… these treacherous, _lascivious_ cravings… would never be repaid by the one that I wanted.

He would not appreciate me thinking of him so basely. He would be disgusted that I could lower myself to dreaming of such things. I should do all that I could to put the feeling still raging in my stomach to the side, try my best to ignore the needy warmth of my blood and the quickened beats of my heart. I should… I had to, for the sake of my sanity… for the promise that I had made to Sasuke…

Was that why I was pulling my nightgown farther up my legs as I laid back down in my rumpled and cool sheets, sneaking shaking fingers under the elastic of my panties?

* * *

"Sakura."

I shuddered, more affected by the sound of his voice calling my name than I had any right to be. I had to pretend that I was chewing some leftover food so that I could compose myself into a somewhat recognizable human being before looking up at Itachi with a carefully blank expression, meeting his gaze evenly even though a shock of desire ran up my spine as his eyes looked me over, taking in my nearly finished dinner and the rest of the family's almost full plates.

I blushed lightly, swallowing nervously as I realized I had been eating noticeably fast, an unconscious attempt to get away from the table quickly to avoid unintentionally flirting with the man sitting across the table from me.

It had been nearly three months since my devastatingly life changing wet dream and the revelation of how far gone my mind was, and my situation had only gotten worse. I dreamed of his touch and his presence in my bed nearly every night now, most often waking up and indulging in sinful and lecherous recollections of my latest fantasy while relieving the tension between my legs with my own hands.

I had given up on stopping myself from doing this; it was futile and a waste of what was left of my reason. What really bothered me was that I no longer seemed to have any control over what I said or did around him anymore either.

About two months ago I had been walking beside him in the National History Museum and as we had been passing by the gift shop, I had involuntarily turned one of his comments into an innuendo. I don't know why I did it, and I hid in the bathroom for about half an hour afterwards due to sheer mortification, but it was too late to take it back and I had no hope of pretending that he hadn't heard or understood me; the look of surprised amusement that he had given me after the words had slipped from my lips ensured that he knew _exactly_ what I was talking about.

And ever since then, it seems like a dam has broken open in my mind. Whenever I'm around Itachi I have to stay mostly silent so I don't say things without thinking (mostly things with hidden sexual connotations), I have to make a conscious effort to conceal my body or I would willingly wear the most revealing outfit that I own… I even have to keep my hands in my pockets to avoid reaching out and touching him (this seems to be a favorite pastime of my insatiable and demented mind); even the slightest, tiniest brush of my hand would make me want more and having him notice my pitiable state was the last thing that I wanted in the world.

I had considered, from the night that I had discovered my lust for Itachi, the option of leaving the apartment and moving someplace else sooner than planned. I felt that I had successfully overcome my grief over losing Sasuke (this wasn't entirely true, but I could cope well enough most of the time) and was ready to move on (mostly so I could be less tempted far, far away from here), but when I asked Itachi about it he had refused to even listen, insisting that he knew best on the matter and that he was convinced that I wasn't ready. He pretended deafness whenever I tried to bring it up again, and I had given it up as a lost cause until he was satisfied in my progression.

So I had gone back to doing what I could to avoid him (but less noticeably this time; running headlong from every room that he entered was kind of obvious). I tried to keep things as civil as I could with my thoughts scattering all over the place whenever he even looked at me (I tried my best to keep from feeling bad about what had ruined my pregnancies; Hinata was right by saying I had no control over it, so there was no need to beat myself up over it. I still felt horrible about it, and just knowing the true depth of my betrayal was almost too much to bear most nights, but overall I just directed my thoughts to something else whenever it came to mind), and for the most part, I succeeded.

The occasional heated debate still broke out every once in a while, but I rolled over and submitted to him so quickly when they happened that he often grew confused, stunned by my willingness to compromise and see things his way. It grated against my more tempestuous side when I forced myself to agree with him and do whatever he wanted in these situations, but I had to.

I couldn't let myself get too passionate and accidentally insinuate something that I never wanted him to find out about (like the fact that I dreamed about having sex with him every night).

"Slow down. Dinner is not a race," Itachi said as he reached for his glass, taking a sip from it while keeping his gaze locked with mine over the rim of his cup, and I nodded, looking down and picking at my food. As I did, Kenji reached his foot over from his seat and poked my leg, drawing my attention.

I looked over at him once I was sure that Itachi was focused on his salmon (he discouraged talking at the dinner table), and he rolled his eyes, giving his father a pointed look and sticking his tongue out a little, communicating his displeasure at Itachi ordering me around.

Over the past few months, I had come to realize that Kenji had a schoolboy crush on me and whenever Itachi was being unkind to me or Sasori was making his attentions to me too obvious, he would come to my rescue in such a way that the time honored "knight in shining armor" title was all too deserved. It was incredibly charming and never failed to make me feel better, no matter how down I felt about my situation with Itachi.

But at certain times, it was just plain hilarious.

I tried not to snicker, I really did. But I couldn't help it and let out a small snigger of amusement, consequentially making Itachi look up and notice our silent conversation and his son's still slightly sticking out tongue. Both of us instantly dropped our gazes to our laps when we realized that we had gained unwanted and hazardous attention, cold dread washing through the room. Now we were in for it…

Itachi put his chopsticks down beside his plate, eyes narrowing and demeanor foreboding, and he gave his now mortified looking son a sedate look.

"May I rest assured that I will never see such disrespectful behavior at the table again, Kenji?" he said evenly, and Kenji slumped in his chair, looking like he wanted anything but to be here.

"Yes, father," he muttered, looking intently at his knees, and Itachi shook his head.

"Always look at the person that you are talking to, boy, and when you speak, speak clearly. Now, once more: can I trust you to understand that I will not allow such a display at my table again without consequence?"

The little boy did as he was told, turning to look his father in the eye and speaking louder. "Yes, father."

Itachi nodded, gesturing at his son's plate. "Good. Continue eating." Then he turned to me, his gaze becoming harsher.

I rolled my eyes forcedly, ignoring the pleased jolt that twisted my insides as he turned his anger on me. His eyes narrowed farther at the action, and he leaned over the table menacingly, commanding my attention with no trouble.

"Your discourteous behavior cannot be dismissed so easily, however. You are supposed to be the adult in this situation, and you not only failed to apply the proper discipline for my son's action, you _encouraged_ it. You are to go to my office after dinner. We will discuss your childish conduct at that point and come to some sort of arrangement as to what should be done about it."

At this veiled threat, my eyes narrowed and my jaw clenched. I knew what I should do… I should put my head down and submit. I should allow him to exert himself over me and not say a word. I couldn't afford to make this into a fight, not after what had happened Christmas Eve (every fight we had, every time he looked down on me and treated me as a child, after the fateful night had left me humiliatingly bereft of any dignity, hot and bothered and disturbingly desirous from being bossed around)…

But I couldn't take his treatment of me anymore, and what I _should_ do flew out the window in lieu of what I _wanted_ to do. And that was to tell him off like he had never been told off before.

I had already opened my mouth, ready to complain about his assumption that I was intimidated by him and his overall treatment of me, when he interrupted. "If you are about to say what I think you are, then I suggest that you think better of it. If I were to be contested on my sense of justice, the perpetrator would find that they forfeited any say in their punishment at all and would be confined to the apartment for a week, as a _start_. Do you wish to continue armed with this knowledge?"

We glared at each other across the table, Roku happily ignoring us as he tried his best to coat himself with his dinner and Kenji looking fearfully over at me, shaking his head minutely to discourage me from saying anything. Itachi had an eyebrow raised as he met my gaze, as if daring me to continue, and had the gall to look _amused_.

_Ohhh_, how he infuriated me.

He had faced me with an impossible decision. On the one hand, I could stay silent and avoid his wrath for now. I had no idea what he planned on doing once we were alone in his office, but I could imagine it was one of two things: he was either going to try to make peace with me (this didn't seem all too likely, considering he hadn't even mentioned his reason for treating me this way for over three months, much less a plan on when it would end) or he was going to ground me to my room for only god knows how long (ha, I couldn't help but feel like a kid again, wondering how much trouble I was going to get in for lying about my grades at school).

On the other hand, I could say what I thought about him and completely forfeit any chance, however small it may be, of making this horror story of a relationship better (I couldn't take much more of his high-handedness; not only was it offensive, it was driving my dirty dreams to new heights and the _last_ thing that I needed was to have those continue).

Every instinct in my body was telling me to go ahead and say it. I wasn't afraid of him and his anger; I just wanted him to love me and take my body in the most passionate way possible. It was about time that I told him that he couldn't just push me around, anyway.

However, it was much more important that I put my morbid fantasies, and the arguments that only made them worse, to an end. If he was willing to let me tell him of my desire to have our old relationship back, he would most likely be affable to the idea; I was sure that he didn't like our dynamic being this way any more than I did. As such, I reasoned that staying quiet for now would most likely be the best idea and looked back down at my plate, once again picking up my chopsticks and poking at my smoked salmon.

He smirked at my meek acceptance of his warning, sitting back in his chair comfortably. "I suppose I can take that as your answer, then. Very well... Go to your room to wait for us to finish, and come down to my office in half an hour. You are dismissed."

I looked up at him sharply, mouth hanging open slightly. "What? _Seriously_? But… no! That's not fair! You can't treat me like this, Itachi, it's not…" I started to complain, but fell silent, face draining of color, as he scooted his chair back and stood up, his gaze locked on me with deadly seriousness.

A dark sort of calm had taken hold of his visage, as though he were steeling himself to do something, and I found myself, for the first time, actually intimidated by him. I had upset him, I knew that much, and he tended to not react well to being talked back to, but I didn't like the expression he wore; I had never seen him look so determined and tense. He had never said that there was a line in punishment that he would not cross, how low he was willing to descend to ensure my obedience…

Would he… would he _hurt_ me?

Far more scared than I wanted to be by something I should have known better than to suspect, I scrambled from my own chair and in the direction of the doorway out of the dining room quickly, waving my hands frantically and hoping, in my panic, that he wouldn't follow me.

"Alright! I'm going! See?" I said hurriedly, retreating even farther, and he resumed his seat with a slightly smug look on his face, giving me a dismissive wave of his hand to show that I was excused. I obeyed his discharge immediately, backing out through the kitchen nervously before turning tail and fleeing up the stairs, not stopping in my near run until I was behind my bedroom's closed door, wide eyed and panting.

I stood in shocked silence for an unknown amount of time, one hand raised to my fluttering heart and the other still clutched around the doorknob beside me; all I could comprehend was the remembrance of Itachi looking down on me in firm displeasure, serious and unflinching and cold. He had looked capable of anything, and for a moment, I had been absolutely sure that he was going to chase me and inflict physical retribution for my petulance.

I don't know what his opinion of spanking is, since as far as I knew he had never laid a violent hand on either of his sons, but to say that I hadn't feared him punishing me like that in that moment would be a lie.

I shuddered, an out of hand vision of what might have happened being shoved from my mind brutally (no, no, no, I couldn't think about that…), quickly turning my mind from the reality to the theory. I should know better than to think that Itachi would strike me; above all, and despite the verbal spats that we got into on occasion, my brother-in-law was a pacifist, and harshly vilified any man that dared to lay hands on a female or child in anger.

I was being ridiculous; he wouldn't hurt me.

I spent the next few minutes pacing back and forth along the side of my bed, trying to think of every possible outcome of the meeting I was about to have with Itachi. It was entirely possible that he was only going to give me a lecture and then ground me once again, but something about the fact that he had requested a private meeting rather than delivering his judgment immediately like he usually did led me to believe there was some hope.

If I crossed my fingers, would it make it any more likely that a good outcome would occur?

I didn't know, but the belated realization that shocked me from my lost stupor that only came about because I wandered into my bedside table and knocked my alarm clock sent me running, because the numbers on the clock face informed me that I should have already been down on the first floor and inside Itachi's office.

Damn it all to hell, now he was going to be pissed that I was late, too… My chances of getting out of this with any degree of success were dwindling rapidly.

After running a quick brush through my hair in front of my mirror (no need to look as harried as I felt) I scurried down the stairs as quick as I could without falling and snuck as quietly as I could across the living room (Kenji gave me a secretive wink as I tiptoed past him; no idea what that meant) and down the hallway before coming to a stop before the closed door of the room where I would receive my judgment, swallowing heavily and, with abject reluctance, reaching out a hesitant hand to knock.

This was going to be either a relief or a nightmare; might as well find out.

Biting my lip to belay my nervousness, I rapped my knuckles on the smooth wood of the door and then withdrew my hand, anxiously jiggling one impatient foot as I waited for his answer.

I didn't have to wait long.

"Enter," came the slightly annoyed reply, and I gulped noisily before pushing the door open and stepping into the office beyond.

Truthfully, the room wasn't an office. It was, basically, Itachi's personal library. Every wall was covered with ceiling high bookshelves and tactful paintings, and the necessary computers and filing cabinets usually thought of when an office is mentioned were curiously absent. He spent most of the time when he couldn't escape bringing work home in here, however, so the room had adopted the term office due to a technicality.

Itachi was seated in one of the wing backed chairs that sat in front of the currently unlit fireplace, scowling at me over the glass of wine he was holding in one of his hands.

"You're late," he said simply, watching my nervous fidgeting with calculating eyes.

I swallowed again, coming to a halt about ten feet away from him. "I'm sorry… I was thinking and lost track of time."

He considered this while drinking from his goblet before gesturing to the chair next to him. "It is quite alright. Sit."

I blinked at him slowly before crossing the remainder of the room and seating myself on the edge of the chair beside him. Once I was seated he set his glass on the table next to him, steepling his fingers and looking at me appraisingly. "Now, I believe that we are long overdue for a discussion over your behavior these past few months."

My posture instantly became rigid, my gaze frozen to the floor in front of me. Had he noticed my increasing desire to be near him? Had he seen how I watched him and noticed that the way that I talked to him had changed? God, how could I have been so careless? Now he knew and he was…

"Please relax. I have no intention of delivering any judgments until we have come to an understanding."

I looked up at him in confusion following his bland assertion, not understanding. Wasn't he going to ridicule me for my lust over him? He had every right to…

"A-alright…" I said slowly before scooting back in the chair, settling myself as comfortably as possible while still remaining rigid in anticipation. He nodded at the action before continuing.

"It has come to my attention of late that you have a very large capability to be quite immature. I understand why this is; when your parents passed away you were forced to grow up quickly and never really got the chance to be a child, and now that you are with children you have the chance to be. I can see how this would be a tempting distraction from your duties, but the unfortunate fact of the matter is that you are an adult and there is no room for such actions."

He reached up and tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear as he spoke, eyes wandering over the shelves of books he sat beside while I sighed in relief. He wasn't talking about my amorous changes... he didn't know. Thank _god_.

"I was unsure as to how to deal with this at first, and came to the conclusion that if you were going to act the part of a child, then it would be appropriate to acknowledge you as one as well. This has served to make both of us unhappy. On your side, I can see that being seen as a youth is embarrassing, insulting, and humiliating. On my side, not being able to hold you on the same level as I am at has left me little to no opportunities to have civilized conversations, and castigating a person only nine years my junior gives me no real pleasure."

My eyebrows skyrocketed, my eyes widening in surprise. I hadn't thought that he cared about this at all…

"As such, I would like to remedy this. If we can find a way to balance out your childish tendencies and your duties as a caretaker at the same time, then I see no need to continue to regard you so basely and we can go back to how things were before. However, if we cannot, then I do not know what else to do but continue on with how we have been progressing. It is distasteful and appalling, but without order there can be no peace," he said, looking back over at me, and I nodded hurriedly in agreement with his offer, clinging to the hope that this all could finally be over but also, not deep within enough to be ignored, slightly adverse to the proposed treaty.

He was giving me an opportunity that, while I was grateful for, I also felt conflicted about. I knew that I wanted to be able to return to how we used to be (this would provide endless opportunities for me to get closer to him and possibly win his love), but some small, sick, twisted part of me had broken the night of the Christmas Festival, freed due to his irreverent treatment, and it _wanted_ him to continue to exert his dominance over me.

Wanted him to berate me and threaten me and punish me.

It was this part that made me want to defy him when he was daring me to challenge him. It was this part that wished that he would lay his hands on me after I had insulted him, that wished his reprimands were more physical. It was this part that I had so firmly pushed back only minutes ago in my bedroom, the vision of being bent over and spanked both humiliating and arousing. It begged and pleaded for me to incite his anger so that he would touch me, no matter how roughly, and it sickened me.

Was this what I had _become_?

I forcibly shoved that part of me away as I quickly put an answer together in my head. "I want to be able to be your friend again, Itachi. I want a chance to prove to you that I can live up to your expectations of me and gain your trust again."

He sat looking at me for a few tense seconds, eyes flickering over my face consideringly, before he tilted his head. "That is all that you ask? One chance?"

I nodded before thinking about it, and he smirked in response. "Very well… I think that I can accommodate that. You have requested an opportunity to redeem yourself in my eyes, and you shall have it. You will accompany me to the Memorandum Gala at the end of this month, and should you perform adequately, all will be forgiven."

My eyebrows rose again at his proposition, stunned by the offer.

The Memorandum Gala was a huge event held on the last day of April every year, reserved for only the highest ranking officers all over the country as a way to socialize and remember the other great leaders of the police force. Itachi was literally required to go, but having him invite me was an enormous honor.

No one but America's most distinguished police officers, their wives and girlfriends, and the caterers had ever seen one of them from the inside. Everyone there would assume that I was romantically engaged with him (as much as I liked the thought that everyone would be thinking that, just imagining it and not having it be real was painful)…

"Itachi… are you serious? This is a big deal…" I said quietly, and he sighed, taking another drink from his neglected glass of wine.

"I know it is. I wouldn't drag you into it at all, but I went alone last year and the Superintendent General formally reprimanded me for it and told me that if I didn't bring an escort this year, he would personally invade on my love life. I would prefer to avoid such a thing and I thought that instead of asking some poor woman to go with me and getting her hopes for a future with me up, I would take you and avoid that entirely."

Ouch.

I smiled despite the pain his offhand comment caused. "That sounds like a good idea, Itachi," I said cheerfully, and he nodded austerely, as if to say that he knew it was without me saying it.

"It's settled then. Now, you have two weeks to find yourself a suitable dress for the Gala. The theme is, as I've been told, purple and silver, but you don't have to wear either if you wish not to. I would ask you to inform me which color and shade you chose before the night of so that we will be able to match, however. That is all I have to speak with you about, so unless you want to stay and talk about something else, we are done and you can leave whenever you wish."

I kept my tight lipped grin on my face with difficulty as I nodded my way through his instructions, then stood stiffly and, with a formal goodbye, left the room. I was in shock as I closed his office door behind myself, staring wide eyed at nothing. His completely casual dismissal of my affections had hurt me more than I had ever thought they would, and even though I knew he didn't know that I was secretly in love with him, I still felt wounded and scorned.

The only thing that cheered me was hearing that he had no interest in any other women at this point.

* * *

You would never believe it, but it took every spare second that I had over the next two weeks to find myself a dress. It was prom time around the city, and every high school girl in the tri-state area was out in mass, trying to find the perfect dress that would woo their teenage sweethearts. This charmed me to no end, reminding me of the proms I had gone to with Sasuke (making my heart twinge painfully), but it resulted in me having to shop at pricier stores than I wanted to.

Normally I wouldn't have bothered with the size of the price tag, but once again, Itachi had insisted that I take one of his credit cards and I didn't want him to think that I had bought the most expensive dress in the whole of New York City just because I liked spending his money.

In the end I found an incredibly gorgeous deep purple evening gown, made of unbelievably soft silk and decorated with flowing streams of shining gems ("Only the finest Australian crystals are used in our dresses," the saleswoman assured me) across the bodess and torso, and did my best to ignore the numbers on the receipt as I stuffed it into my purse.

Finding matching shoes and jewelry wasn't a hassle for once; the store I bought the dress in had a complementary service that matched the colors of the shoes and dresses flawlessly, and a small bald man with very large glasses handed me a jewelry box that contained one of the most perfect accentuating jewelry sets I had ever seen.

No worries over looking like an idiot in unmatching shoes, at least.

The evening of the Gala found me climbing into the elevator nervously (taking the stairs in these heels would have been even more suicidal than taking the elevator would have been), clutching my small purse between my painted and shaking fingers. My face felt stiff and false under the small amount of makeup I had forced myself to wear so that I would look my best this evening, and the bare shoulders of the dress made me more self-conscious of my image than I was truly comfortable with.

I pressed the button for the lobby, then went to stand with my back to the wall, nervously eyeing the shaking box I was confined in. Itachi had gone to take the kids to his parent's house for the night since he didn't want them to be bored at the Gala (instructing me to wait for him down in the lobby once I was ready) and still had yet to see me in my dress, or, once I thought about it, to even see the dress at all.

As you might expect, this made me nervous about how he would receive it. Would he think it too revealing? Would he think that I had gotten the dress with the lowest neck possible just to try to catch his attention?

I twirled a lock of curled pink that hung over my shoulder with an errant finger, thinking over what he might think once he saw me, as the elevator jerked to an early halt at the twenty-fourth floor, the door opening to admit the hunched old woman I had seen on my very first day of living here.

I had seen the distinguished woman many times since then, learning on my second encounter that she was, in fact, the owner of the building and nearly every other building on the whole city block we were established on (Itachi had almost literally done a facepalm when he discovered that I hadn't known who she was). Her name was Mitsuki Shizuka, but she laughingly insisted on being called either Suki or Mrs. M.

Naturally, Itachi always called her Shizuka-sama, no matter whether he was speaking with her or in reference to her.

She quirked an eyebrow at my formal wear as she came to stand beside me. "Well, what are you all gussied up for?" she asked magnanimously, the elevator once again starting its rumbling descent, and I smiled stiffly.

"Itachi invited me to accompany him to the Memorandum Gala," I said, and she made a sound of understanding, eyes moving over the material of the dress I was wearing approvingly. "Ah, I hadn't realized that that was being held tonight. Well, you certainly look ready for it. If I may be quite frank, I believe that you will outshine even the richest of any other officer's escorts."

I blushed at the compliment, flapping a hand to wave it away. "I highly doubt that. I heard that the Superintendent General's wife was coming, and she is so beautiful that she never fails to steal the show away at whatever event she goes to."

She rolled her eyes sarcastically. "She wouldn't know how to truly win a man if the secret came up and bit her on her pompous backside. Nevertheless, you have my opinion, and I'm sure that Itachi-san will agree with me. Where ever did you find such an ensemble, by the way? It is quite stunning."

The rest of the ride down the building was spent discussing where I had found the dress (apparently, she shopped there occasionally as well) and enthusing over how well they had matched the accessories they had given me. When the elevator opened again, finally having reached the lobby, she went her own way with another assurance that I would be the star of the evening.

Itachi was still absent as far as I could see as I clicked my way out of the elevator and into the spacious lobby, so I made my way over to where Sasori was organizing his desk, desiring to see his reaction to my outfit. I leaned against the counter, fixing the still distracted man with a reproving look. "Excuse me, sir, could you tell me where I could find a good critique? I can't find one anywhere in this whole building."

His eyebrows furrowed at the strange question and he looked up from where he was stacking leaflets, looking over me before realizing who I was and what I was wearing, doing a comical double take as he did.

"Dear _**god**_," he muttered, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open slightly, and he rounded his desk to get a better look at me. He appeared to be speechless for a few moments, gaping at me wordlessly before recovering his senses and approaching me with an awestruck look on his face. "Sakura… you look simply amazing. I never thought that you could look more stunning than you do every day, but I was wrong."

I smiled as he took my hand in his and pressed his lips to my knuckles, rolling my eyes at the gesture. "Do you really like it? You would tell me if you didn't, wouldn't you?" I asked as he stood back to his full height and quite obviously admired the way the silk hugged my body, and he smirked, his gaze moving back up to meet mine.

"No, I wouldn't. I'm still trying to charm you into a relationship with me, remember? But the fact remains that I do like it, and I can assure you that any man that says different would be lying through his teeth."

I bit my bottom lip and looked away from his sincere gaze, acknowledging the fact that he hadn't relinquished my hand back to me yet. True to his word, he hadn't given up on his pursuit of me over the past few months and made sure to remind me of his attraction to me every time I came through the lobby (not necessarily with words), and I knew from this that he wouldn't allow me to escape him without being directly told that I didn't desire to move into a more intimate relationship with him.

"Thank you, Sasori. I don't deserve your devotion, truly…" I whispered as I shuffled a heeled toe against the floor, and he shook his head, using his gentle grip on my hand to drag me closer to him.

"Nonsense. Why wouldn't you? Keeping me waiting isn't a bad thing in your position, and I don't mind the delay. A woman like you is more than worthy of my time and affections, I assure you," he said quietly, leaning forward and brushing his lips against my cheek boldly at the same moment as he pressed his free hand to my back to pull me lightly against his chest, his thumb brushing against the skin of my lower back that the back (or lack of) of my dress revealed.

I wouldn't have been nearly as embarrassed by this if Itachi hadn't walked through the front doors at that moment.

As it was, he did, and as soon as I saw him I took a step back from Sasori, blushing bright red and looking down at my feet. I could feel his gaze on me as an awkward silence fell over the room, and I was sure his expression would be one of disgust.

He didn't comment on the sight he had walked in on, however, simply continuing on his way and coming to stand beside me (all the while looking unbelievably handsome in his tuxedo and deep purple tie. I couldn't help but think that he should wear all black more often. It really suits him…).

"Are you ready, Sakura?" he queried, and when I nodded, he turned away and walked back to the front doors, holding one open for me. I kept my eyes trained on the floor as I walked over and through it, muttering a goodbye to Sasori as I did, and after I had exited the building, Itachi closed the door and proceeded to pull the passenger side door of his car open for me as well.

I nodded my thanks for his courtesy before slipping into the seat with a rustle of silk, and he shut the door behind me solidly. When he had settled into his own seat he turned to me, casting a glance over my dress critically. I averted my eyes to the tips of my painted toes, a deep, dark blush gracing my cheeks.

He was going to deride me now, I was sure of it. Letting Sasori kiss my cheek had ruined my chance to impress him already, and now I would never have another opportunity to do so again. I could probably look forward to the continuation of our hazardously volatile relationship once we got home…

"That dress is beautiful, Sakura. It is unsurprising that Mr. Akasuna couldn't resist taking advantage of your femininity… I shall have to keep you closer to my side tonight than I thought I would have to."

Blinking like an idiot, my gaze snapped up to meet his. He was smiling at me sincerely, a look of such honesty in his gaze that I couldn't meet it without blushing even redder than I already was. I found myself incapable of responding with how dry my mouth suddenly was, but he didn't seem to expect an answer, merely chuckling at my reaction to his words and starting the car.

The long journey to City Hall, where the Gala was being held, was by no means silent, of course. There was much to talk about (mostly due to my inexperience with gatherings like this), and Itachi had no problem explaining anything that I didn't understand about the evening's plans.

As the chief of the city's police department, he would be in charge of all of the activities, including but not limited to the charity pool, the dinner, and the socialization, and I was supposed to be at his side all through the night. He was expected to head off the dancing as well (I was going to get to _dance_ with him!), but he made sure to tell me not to be nervous about this; the only dance we would be forced to partake in would be the first.

I don't know why he thought that I wouldn't want to dance with him more… maybe this was his way of telling me that _he_ didn't want to dance with me more than was required.

This thought bothered me more than it should have, but Itachi's subtle attentions to me more than made up for it. Every time I looked over at him he seemed to be glancing away from me. This mystified me; my choice of apparel seemed to have made a much larger and entirely unexpected impact on him than I had thought. I really couldn't tell what he thought of it overall, and I couldn't read anything but approval from his expressions, but that was enough to guess the reason for his constant sneaky glimpses over at my side of the car: he really _did_ like the dress.

He didn't comment on my attire farther from his earlier comment more than to ask what it was made of, but I could tell that it more than pleased him with the long looks he kept giving the garment (which I could only catch from the corner of my eye). I would have liked to think that it was me that was holding his attention, but I had no delusions over the fact that he was merely eyeing the shimmering fabric covering my body, not the actual body beneath it. I wished that it were a different story (who wouldn't want Itachi Uchiha checking them out?), but whining and moaning about it would do less than no good.

I needed to at least pretend to be cheerful so that I could perform my best this evening. If I showed my depression over my companion's misdirected (at least in my opinion) considerations, I would surely displease someone. And if one of the guests weren't happy, then Itachi wouldn't be happy either, and things wouldn't turn out so well for my imagined vision of how tonight would turn out (spending every second in the man I was in love with's arms and then regaining my much beloved friendship with him).

So, naturally, I pretended not to notice the glances he was giving my dress and changed the subject (the weather) to the proper way to do the waltz.

As we pulled into the parking lot of City Hall, it was easy to see that we were among the first to arrive. Only two other cars were present other than Itachi's (even though they were both just as expensive as his was), and I was slightly worried that we might have been told the wrong address (despite the fact that Itachi had planned the Gala and sent the invitations himself).

I was actually about to ask, stepping out of the car and walking around to look at the lit up building apprehensively, when my hand was seized abruptly.

I couldn't stop the gasp that rose to my lips as I was dragged to Itachi's side, my hand sliding into the crook of his arm without my consent.

He smirked down at me as I righted myself (I had nearly fallen over, my heels betraying my equilibrium), closing his right hand over mine and patting it in an almost condescending manner. "As I said, Sakura; I am going to have to keep you close to my side tonight."

An unwilling blush rose to my already flushed cheeks, and I looked away from him before trying to tug my arm back from him. His lips thinned slightly at this action, and he tightened his grip over my fingers, ensuring that I didn't remove my hand from his elbow.

"Do not make me withdraw my offer of peace so early in the evening Sakura…" he threatened, starting to stride towards the immaculate wall of doors leading onto the building, at the same time dragging me along with him. "It is key that everyone here believes that we are together, and if you are constantly shying away from me, no one will be fooled. I have absolutely no wish for anyone, least of all my superiors, to be privy to the fact that we are merely friends and not lovers, and I will be _very_ unhappy if they should find out because you cannot do as I ask you for one single night. You haven't forgotten that this is your penance _already_, have you?"

I bit my bottom lip, shaking my head mutely, and he nodded, loosening his grip on my hand. "Good. So just remember the plan; be as convincing as you can without being improper, and don't stray too far from me. Got it?" With another mute head gesture from me (this time a nod), he pulled the door open and ushered me inside, giving me one last warning look before letting an easy half smile lift his expression, his demeanor instantly changing when the apparent occupants of the other two cars turned their attention to him.

While I looked on from where I was being forced to stand by as my friend firmly shook hands with the men, I plastered a shy smile on my face and clung to Itachi's arm like he was the only thing holding me to the earth.

The plan we had come up with regarding our deception tonight required me to pose as Itachi's very recently established girlfriend; a young, quiet girl that was still wary of my relationship with the older man but was also desperately in love with him. I could hold small, short conversations with anyone that wished to speak with me, but for the most part I was to reinforce my painfully shy front by speaking only with Itachi and pretending to fawn over my "boyfriend".

For obvious reasons, I had absolutely _no_ problem with that.

I mean, being _encouraged_ to twine my fingers with his and to play with the end of his ponytail as he chatted with some of his coworkers was a sure way to ascertain that the grin curving my lips as I greeted officers and generals over and over again was more than real. This was what I had been dreaming of for a whole year (and apparently much longer as well), and finally having his affections, even just as an act, was incredibly satisfying.

The only thing that was bothering me (and let me tell you, it was hard to be bothered by _anything_ after the staged kiss that Itachi pressed to my cheek during dinner) was exactly how unnecessary all of this was. Why had he believed that this would be the most believable tactic to keep the dreaded Superintendent General (who I still had yet to meet) off of his scent?

Wouldn't it have been more feasible to simply pose as long time lovers that were comfortable with their relationship instead of him having to be the protective, comforting man, keeping one arm around the shoulders of his blushing, stuttering young flame?

I couldn't understand why he didn't see that option; it's not like he was even close to stupid. He always thought things through to the upmost of detail, oft times overthinking them, in my opinion. The only reason that I could come up with for his insistence on this course of action was that… well…

Itachi actually wanted it to be like this. Like he wanted to be able to monopolize my attention and be able to glare at any man who talked to me too long.

I almost immediately dismissed this thought, of course. Why would he want to have a relationship with _me_? He had everything that he wanted with his children, everything that he needed with his job… he had the full capacity to go out and find another woman to share his life with if he so wished. I was far more than flattering myself by thinking that he would want that with _me_. This was a ruse, and that was all.

That must be the reason that I was reveling in his attention to me and milking my act for all that it was worth, blushing prettily every time he looked at me and never letting go of him for a second longer than I had to. I was trying to make it look good. That had to be it.

Despite my complete and total confusion over how completely _real_ Itachi's acting seemed to be and how helpless I felt about the situation in general, the evening progressed as smoothly and flawlessly as my companion had planned it. No one suspected for a second that Itachi and I were not involved; many of them jokingly commented that they expected an invitation to our wedding. Obviously, our ploy was flawless enough to fool all these people into thinking that we were in love, and this resulted in a very pleased brother-in-law and an optimistic me.

I smiled into the bathroom mirror nervously, poking my hair back into place carefully. I had escaped to the bathroom for a short time after the opening dance (_god_, he was so romantic… he didn't take his eyes off of me the entire song. I could barely meet his gaze every few seconds, with how serene and soulful his gaze was; I almost forgot that it was all a sham and stretched upon my toes to kiss him before remembering, pretending to pick a string off of his shoulder, and burying my face in his chest instead), and I couldn't help but be relieved for how well the night was going.

Maybe everything really would turn out alright…

I bit my lip, looking over my reflection in the mirror. Huh… I looked really happy. I knew that I felt like it; it wasn't hard to tell with the butterflies in my stomach and the anxious shaking of my hands. But I hadn't known that I was literally _glowing_. I hated to compare it to something so special… but I looked like I had on my wedding day.

I shrugged, inspecting my makeup one last time before flipping one of my curls over my shoulder and going over to the bathroom door. _Maybe Itachi would want to dance with me again later_… I thought as I walked down the dark hallway back towards the main hall, where the second song was drawing to a close. _If he were to really be in love he would want to dance with the object of his affections more than once, right? Perhaps I could mention that fact very casually a little later tonight…_

I was just pushing my way through the crowd, a conniving smirk lifting my lips, when my path was deliberately blocked by a tall man, his arms folded over his chest. I tripped to a halt, stumbling slightly, before looking up and meeting the amused gaze of a grinning, red headed man, surprise making my eyes fly wide.

I wasn't surprised that he had stopped me and obviously wanted to speak with me; I _was _taken aback by the dozen or so facial piercings that he had in, however.

"Good evening, my dear… I must say, it has been incredibly difficult to get you away from Itachi so far. I'm glad that I caught you while he wasn't standing over your shoulder… I've been waiting to talk to you privately. During the next dance, perhaps?" the man said smoothly, holding his hand out invitingly but authoritively as well; it wasn't an offer, it was a command.

This, added to his appearance and the respect that practically emanated from the people surrounding us, clued me in to who this was…

Superintendent General Nagato Pein.

"_The general is a very intelligent, very observant man. He will not be as easily fooled as the rest of my colleagues, so you must be very careful with what you say to him. When he approaches us, let me speak unless he addresses you directly, and if he does, you __**must**__ do your best to do as we have rehearsed. It is imperative that you do not betray our noncommitance, and one stray word will be more than enough to tip General Pein off. Just remember: I am in love with you, you are in love with me, and you are to let __**me **__handle this."_

These were the instructions I had been given on the way over here tonight (I was very grateful that it had been dark; having him talk about sharing love with me so casually had made me blush darker than I ever had in my entire life), and I was confident that I would have been able to handle that. I was prepared for encountering the man while I was with Itachi. But now I had to face him alone and… I wasn't sure if I could.

"I-I… I d-don't think… I just… I-Itachi…" I stammered uncertainly, shying back from his extended hand slightly, but he shook his head, insistently keeping his hand out.

"Don't you worry about him. He will survive for five minutes without you. Now come; let us dance," he said, blue eyes twinkling with amusement, and I hesitantly took his extended hand and allowed him to lead me out onto the dance floor.

As we positioned ourselves correctly, the band getting ready for the next song, I looked over the crowd to see if I could see Itachi and request for him to save me. I couldn't spot him in the circle of people surrounding the packed floor, however, and the music was starting up. There would be no escaping this…

"Don't worry, my lady… I am not going to bite you. I just have a few questions that I want to put to you regarding your relationship with my former student," Nagato muttered as we began to move in time to the tune of the song, the other couples swirling around us gently. I nodded nervously, licking my lips (they were suddenly extremely dry), and he smiled.

"Good, good… we can proceed then. Now… I am truly surprised that Itachi would think that I would be fooled by such a feeble attempt at trickery. He should know better than that…" My throat seized up, air unable to go down my throat as I registered the fact that I had failed already. I had only been with the man for five seconds and he knew. Shit…

"However, I know for a fact that you cannot fake the love that I see in your eyes. When was it that you fell for him?"

I looked up at him sharply, the knowing expression on his face ascertaining that I had heard him right. Was it really that easy to see? How many other people had noticed? Had Itachi?

Swallowing anxiously, I gripped his hand harder than possibly necessary as he spun me gracefully, the skirt of my dress flowing around me like so much water. "Please, sir… please don't tell him. He can't find out…"

He laughed, bringing me back to rest against his chest. "Fret not, young lady. I have no intention of betraying your feelings. This conversation will stay between us, but I must warn you… he probably knows as well. I taught the man well, and I have never underestimated his abilities the way he does with mine. Thus is the life of a teacher, I suppose…"

He chuckled deep in his chest, moving us around the dance floor expertly as if purposefully avoiding something. "I believe that you have somehow evaded my earlier question, however… when was it that you realized that you were in love with him?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, avoiding his gaze by looking at his seafoam green bow tie. "About six months ago…" I whispered, completely sure that he could hear me despite the chatter and the music, and apparently I was right, because he nodded, spinning me around again.

"I see… and when are you planning on telling him?" he asked conversationally, spinning me back, and I shrugged.

"I don't really know… I never really planned to. He's so far out of my league…"

He scoffed quietly, rolling his eyes. "Nonsense, dear one. If anyone is out of league here, it is he. The greatest of his gifts has never been aesthetics, unfortunately… and since he cannot make use of what he has before him enough for him to think up this ruse instead of simply making it true, my hypothesis of last year is merely reinforced instead of discouraged."

I raised an eyebrow at this, tilting my head as we continued in the easy, mechanical movements of the dance. "And what is this hypothesis, sir?" He smirked, leaning down to whisper in my ear.

"That he is a lovesick fool that is afraid of his own feelings_._"

I blinked at him incomprehensibly as he drew back, slightly bemused by the man and his comment. "Sir?"

I asked timidly, unsure of his meaning, and he shrugged genially, gaze knowing and playful. "Don't you worry your head about it. I will have words with him on the subject later."

We continued to dance, seemingly alone in the room while we spoke of things that should never be spoken. I couldn't comprehend how I had gotten to this point; discussing my heartbreakingly painful love for my brother-in-law with a complete stranger who could ruin me in seconds wasn't how I imagined the first revealing of my affections to be.

Why was he so interested in the first place?

I sighed, allowing him to dip me in time to the beat. "If I may ask, sir… why is it that you care so much about the status of Itachi's love life?"

He gave me a half smile, drawing me back up and putting his hand on my waist again. "It is one of my greatest joys to fool around with my most successful student's life, for the most part. He is an endless source of entertainment for me. But I also have no wish to see him suffer because of his own shortcomings, and he has suffered for so long. I think that seven years is long enough to wait for what you want most in the world, don't you?"

My eyebrows furrowed again, and I had just opened my mouth to inquire what he meant by that when the music drew to a close and all of the couples around us began parting ways. He looked down at me with a conniving grin that had matched my earlier one lifting his lips as he released me, bowing formally and respectfully.

"Thank you, lovely lady, for the dance and the chat. I am enlightened and honored. But you will have to excuse me; I must attend to my wife before she is swept away by the efforts of another man. Farewell for now, and enjoy the rest of your evening," he said, gesturing over to where an absolutely gorgeous blue haired woman was leaning over, talking to a possibly six year old boy whose hair matched neither the general's nor his wife's but was clearly the woman's son.

I nodded, smiling slightly as I watched him walk over to his family before turning, intending on trying to find Itachi, but instead drew to a halt, a man standing purposefully in my way again.

This time, however, it was the man in question, and he didn't appear to be pleased.

After a lengthy and detailed discussion (more like interrogation) over exactly what the general had asked me and what my responses had been (I didn't tell the exact truth, leaving out the fact that he had known that our act was just that), Itachi calmed and drew me back to the dance floor himself, never letting me go for more than one dance at a time the whole rest of the night.

I will not lie; his actions confused me.

I had never felt more like a possession before, with how he refused to let me dance with anyone but himself after being cornered by the general, even if they asked me. He would glare at them over my shoulder, sending them on their way without a word, and then would proceed to almost _flaunt_ his "ownership" of me by practically exhibiting me on the dance floor.

It's not that I minded; hell no.

I loved every soft stroke of his hand as it rested on my lower back and every light brush of his lips as he staged kiss after kiss on my cheeks while we whirled about the dance floor, every whisper of his breath against my skin as we talked about the mundane and the innocent in low tones while held in each other's arms and every glimpse of his smile, content and pleased, that I received while so close to him.

But I couldn't understand why he would go to such lengths all for the sake of this con. We had already successfully fooled everyone that needed to be fooled, to the best of his knowledge…

It did no good to try to figure it out, however; it merely made my head hurt. So I did my best to ignore the strangeness of the situation and merely enjoyed it, relishing his touch and reveling in his attention to my heart's content.

* * *

I twiddled my fingers nervously, examining the phone held in my palm as I worried my bottom lip between my teeth. Now that it was finally time to make the call, I found myself more nervous than I ever had been before. It had seemed like such a good idea while I was thinking about it, and up until about twenty seconds ago I had been steadfast in my decision. But now…

I sighed, glaring at the number pad on the receiver that my thumb was hovering over. Ever since the Gala, I had been a mess of confusion over Itachi's feelings concerning me. We had gone back to our normal, adult friendship, holding normal conversations and things like that, but his jealous actions and protective habits had not faded with the ruse, and I couldn't make any sense of it.

If he didn't like me in a romantic sense, then why was he being so protective of me? Why did he spend so much time with me and so much effort making sure I always had whatever I wanted without paying for it myself? Why did it seem like he was jealous when I was around other men besides him?

I didn't know, but it only fueled my insatiable desire to gain his love (as well as my bad habit of carrying his day to day actions over to my dirty dreams), and that was when my grand idea had sprung into action. I had been working on it for more than a month, and today I had finally managed to succeed. It was really lucky that it had been today, actually… it was Itachi's birthday, and I had the perfect excuse for coming to show him my completed plot as soon as possible.

Kenji had the day off of school, and he had come up with the idea (with a small amount of subliminal messaging from me) to go see Itachi at the police department for lunch. Now all that I had left to do was get the OK from Itachi and everything would fall into place.

Unfortunately, it was as I was about to dial his office number that I lost my confidence.

What would he think? Would he guess the meaning behind it? I acknowledged now that, while I wanted with all my heart for him to know that I loved him, I was afraid of how he would take it. This maneuver, with all of its rushed construction and precarious set up, could easily come crashing down around my ears, and then what would I have? Nothing. But if I gave up now, nothing would change and that wouldn't help at all. I took a deep breath, clenching my jaw. I had to try. In the famous words of Macbeth, "I dare do all that may become a man; who dares do more is none." As corny as it is to quote Shakespeare on a matter such as this, I find that it fits rather well with my predicament.

I glanced down at the piece of paper with Itachi's extension written on it one last time before bolstering my nerve. Come on, Sakura… courage…

_*beep beep boop beep beep boop boop*_

*_ring… ring… ring… ring…*_

_*clack*_

"_You have reached the desk of the awesome captain Itachi Uchiha! Unfortunately, weasel brain is away right now, so you're stuck with me! How can I help y… hey! Give the phone back!"_

"_Kisame, go help Hidan with the paperwork unless you really do want the captain to castrate you. Now shh… I apologize for the previous answerer of your call; how may I help you?"_

"_God damn it, Kakuzu, I don't want to work with him! His handwriting looks like a fucking kindergartener's! Get your ugly ass back over here!"_

I snickered slightly as I heard Kisame complain about that comment in the background, punctuated with Hidan's trademark cursing, before answering. "Hello, Kakuzu. It's Sakura. Is Itachi around somewhere?"

"_No, he's not here right now, but he will be back soon if you want to…"_

"_Who is it, Kakuzu? Was I right? I can practically taste those sixty bucks…"_

"_Just a moment, ma'am… It's Sakura, Kisame. It is neither his mother nor a prostitute. Fork over both of your bets; I win again."_

"_Fuck! Come on, Kakuzu, I didn't say it had to be a prostitute specifically… just someone the captain was fucking. They've been living together for a fucking year. Do you think there's a chance in hell that he hasn't tapped that yet?"_

I gasped, my cheeks coloring at the conversation going on over the phone. Did they really think that… that Itachi was… having sex with me? I was almost ready to put the phone back down, horrified that they all thought that I was so easy despite the fact that I wanted nothing more than to claim it was true, when Kakuzu came to my rescue.

"_They aren't sleeping together, Hidan. The captain respects Sakura more than that. Now hand over the money."_

"_Fuck you! Let me talk to her; I'll figure out if they've been doing the nasty."_

"_No. Why would she want to talk to you about that? It's none of your concern as it is."_

"_It is if I'm losing thirty fucking dollars! And what the hell was that supposed to mean, Kakuzu? I get way more chicks than you and sharkface combined. I will have you know that skirts totally fucking dig the albino thing, and I'm willing to bet that even Sakura has fantasized about what I'm packing, so the question is… why __**wouldn't**__ she want to talk to me about it?"_

"_Because you're a douchebag."_

"_Shut the fuck up, Kisame! Women don't give a shit about that. All they want is a good lay, and I'm gonna say it now; if the captain hasn't fucked her yet, then I sure as hell will. Sakura's…"_

"_Say one more word and I will __**personally**__ show you the error of your ways."_

A shiver ran up my spine as a new voice intruded on the three deputies' conversation, and it was obvious from the tenor and respect of the silence that followed the fourth person's comment who it was that had just walked in.

Itachi…

"_I should have you all discharged from the force for the disrespect you have shown my sister-in-law. You had better hope that she isn't offended by your remarks, because if she is, I will have your resignations on my desk by noon. Now get out of my sight and get that paperwork finished."_

"_Yes captain."_

"_Sorry, captain."_

_*sigh* _

"_Are you still there, Sakura?"_

My back stiffened slightly, my mouth going dry as he addressed me in that caring tone that he used when he was worried about his sons, before finding my voice again. "Yes, I'm here."

"_I apologize for anything that my idiot deputies may have said to you. You may rest assured that they will be reprimanded in the harshest manner possible."_

I rolled my eyes, shoving my embarrassment over what they had been talking about to the side in lieu of trying to save their jobs. "Don't be mad at them Itachi, they were just having fun. I don't think that it's necessary to drag this out any farther than it already is."

"…_are you sure? Feeling sorry for them doesn't obligate you to accept such foul assumptions or invasive quandaries. If you are at all hurt by anything that they said, tell me now and I will take care of it."_

I shook my head, twisting the edge of my shirt around my index finger. "I'm sure, Itachi. It's not a big deal." I heard him sigh once more, a slight rustling heralding what I assumed was him sitting down, before he continued, his voice once again assuming its professional and even tone.

"_Very well. I certainly hope that they are grateful for the effort you just went to to save their jobs, though if I know them, they will forget soon enough. Now, is there something that you needed? I assume that you called to speak with me."_

I smiled as Kenji poked his head around the edge of the wall, giving me a hopeful look, and I shook my head minutely, making a shushing motion with my hand, and he nodded before withdrawing. "Yes, I did. Your sons have wanted to visit you at work for a while now, and since Kenji has the day off of school today, he thought it would be a good idea to join you for lunch. I agree, so I thought I'd give you a call first to see if it was alright. Plus, Roku learned how to say something new today and I really think that you would like to hear it."

"_Is that so? What did he say? And as for Kenji's request… Yes, I believe that would be acceptable. You may bring them over for lunch if you would like."_

I giggled quietly, giving the sneakily peeking Kenji a thumbs up, who immediately shot his hands up in the air in victory and disappeared. "I think that it would be better to hear for yourself, Itachi. It's not something that I can just tell you about. Well… Alright, I'm going to go get them ready. We will be over there by eleven forty-five."

"_As you wish. Drive safely."_

"I will. Bye."

"_Goodbye."_

I set the receiver back on the charger, practically hopping in anticipation. It was all going according to plan… as long as I stayed calm and stayed true to my very basic plan, then all would be well and hopefully, a hint of what I felt for Itachi would be communicated today. It was a daring leap, teaching Roku to say _that_… Itachi was a smart man; there was a very good chance he would guess my reasoning for doing so.

I couldn't afford to worry about that right now though, with two half-naked little boys running around yelling at the tops of their lungs from sheer excitement. I had to get the kids dressed and get over to the police station.

If you don't know, then I will be the first to tell you: trying to dress two excited children at the same time is nearly impossible, especially if you have a time limit. Kenji understood the fact that it was inexcusable to be late for a planned meeting with his strict father, but Roku didn't know or care, and made it perfectly clear that he intended to streak around the house wearing nothing but his socks for the rest of his life.

I had to literally jump on the child and _wrestle_ him into his clothes to get any headway.

Luckily I had the ever responsible and helpful elder child to help me, or we never would have made it on time. We were going to be abhorrently late when we finally stumbled from the stairway and out into the parking garage (Sasori casting a querying eye over our ruffled and hurried movements before wishing us a good day and giving me a sly, slightly suggestive wink), but Kenji provided me with an excellent detour that got us to the station with time to spare. I was so happy that I kissed his cheek (making to still crushing boy flush in embarrassment).

Roku and I practiced what I had taught him all the way up the elevator (Itachi had forbade me from running up and down the stairs in the police department; a criminal could escape confinement and the first place he would go was the stairs), reciting the simple but profound words over and over so that he wouldn't forget them when it was finally time to tell his father. My heart was pounding in my eardrums due to my overbearing excitement by the time that the doors finally slid open on our designated floor: the department chief's office.

The first thing that I saw as I herded my charges out of the elevator was the black eye and bloody lip decorating a grumbling Hidan's face. The second thing I noticed was the nearly matching injuries marring the faces of his fellow deputies.

My jaw instantly dropped. "Oh my _god_! What in the world happened to you three?" I screeched, stalking over to them and looking intently at their wounds.

Hidan kept uncharacteristically silent, looking down and shuffling a pile of papers on the desk he was seated on, while Kisame mumbled something about overreactions and Kakuzu gave as warm a smile as he could manage with an obviously broken nose, getting up off of his desk chair and coming to stand beside me.

"Don't worry about these scratches; the SWAT mission last night was a complete fiasco. As it turns out, one of the picketers at the convention had a bean bag launcher and completely caught us off guard. He whaled on us for about ten minutes before the captain got everything under control. You would never believe how hard you can get hit until you get nailed by a bag of beans going over a hundred miles an hour. I don't think that Kisame will ever be able to have children after the treatment he got," Kakuzu explained, ignoring the affronted "Oi!" that Kisame let out at the jibe.

I made a sound of understanding, slightly suspicious of the circumstances, but let it drop. Being part of the SWAT team nearly ensured getting injuries (even though Itachi never seemed to get any); they were lucky they had merely been bloodied and bruised. "Well, if you insist that you are alright… is Itachi in the office? We're a little early…"

Hidan nodded stiffly, looking like he really wanted to say something (more than likely unnecessarily explicit), but kept his silence after giving me a significant look. Huh… well, I didn't know what that was about, but it obviously didn't concern me.

"Thanks guys. I hope you get better soon! Those look really painful… hey; I could take a look at them if you want! I may not be a doctor, but I do know a thing or two about fixing up minor injuries…" I offered, taking a step towards Hidan's desk with a concerned hand raised, but all of the men simultaneously took a step back, looking wary of my outstretched hand.

They immediately began making excuses for having to leave, gathering up their coats and keys, and I blinked after them as they practically ran from the room and down the stairwell. I exchanged a confused look with Kenji, who shrugged his shoulders, before shaking their strange behavior off and making my way to the closed door of Itachi's private office.

If they didn't want my help, I wouldn't press the issue.

I placed a smart, polite knock on the wood of his closed door, waiting for his invitation to enter before pushing it open and stepping through, shepherding Roku through in front of me and giving my friend a smile. He was sitting behind his desk, the top of it neat and orderly (unlike his deputies, whose desk tops could be hiding months' worth of lunches and important documents), and looking over his sons with a doting smile.

"Good morning, boys… Sakura. I trust the drive over was reasonable, since you are here early…" he said as he held out his arms, welcoming his youngest son in for a hug, and the little boy instantly pounced on him, happily shouting, "Daddy! I'm here, daddy!"

Kenji took a seat in one of the chairs across the desk from Itachi while I took the other, folding my legs up on the seat with me and smiling at the sight of the mighty Itachi Uchiha rubbing noses with his two year old son.

"No, the traffic was terrible. But Kenji showed me a detour that saved me. He mentioned that it was one that you had shown him once…" I shot an encouraging look at the boy, and he immediately launched into the remembered exchange, reminding his father of how he had taken him down the road before and how someone had been stupid enough to try to rob them.

Itachi made an appreciative noise, raising an eyebrow. "Very good, Kenji. I am surprised that you remembered that; I haven't taken you on that road in several years. I am proud of you."

Kenji immediately blushed, looking down at the tops of his knees at the compliment. Itachi smiled at that, and then turned his attention to the boy sitting in his lap. "Roku…" he said quietly, making the toddler look up at him with a wide grin. "Sakura told me that you said something new today… do you want to tell daddy what it is?"

My breath caught in my throat, my heart stuttering out of its designated place in my chest and up into my mouth. The moment of truth… god, I hoped he didn't understand the double meaning. Roku looked over at me inquiringly, and I nodded.

"You can tell him our secret, Roku," I said, and Itachi furrowed his eyebrows slightly, glancing at me sharply, before Roku loudly exclaimed what I had worked for a month to teach him. It had been incredibly hard, with his short attention span and his tendency to forget what he was doing, but it was essential, and I had succeeded when it had truly mattered.

This was my gift to Itachi, and my own admition in the same motion. The child had no shyness over the saying of such a grave statement; I don't know if he really understood its meaning yet. I wished that I had the courage to do the same…

"I love you, daddy!"

Itachi's eyes flew wide, his gaze snapping from me back to his son, before a real, heartfelt smile lifted his lips and he hugged his youngest progeny to his chest tightly, burying his face in the boy's cropped hair. "I love you too, my son…" he muttered quietly, voice cracking slightly, and I nearly burst into tears from the sheer emotion of the moment.

I will not cry… I will not cry while they are having this moment.

They stayed like that for a few moments, Itachi holding his son tightly and Roku very intelligently holding still, before Itachi sat back, looking into his son's eyes, his own looking a little glossy and wet. "Thank you for telling me your secret, Roku. Can you tell me one more?" The little boy nodded immediately, excited to be helping his beloved father, and Itachi shared his grin easily. "Can you tell me who it was that taught you to say that?"

It was an easy enough question. He knew the answer to it, and he had no problem pointing his finger over at the culprit. I didn't mind him telling, either; I had kind of expected him to. What I _hadn't_ expected was the name that he attached to the accusation.

"Mommy told me."

The happy feeling in my stomach disappeared immediately as I stared at the boy incomprehensibly, jaw hanging open in shock as all of the other people in the room froze, every eye turning from the proudly grinning boy and over to me. I was incapable of acknowledging their questioning, shocked demeanors, however; I was swept out to sea on my own wave of surprise.

I had never expected to hear that name used in conjunction with me, not after Sasuke's death and receiving the news that I was incapable of having any children besides Itachi's. It made sense that Roku would assume that of my position in his life, considering that Alora had died before he had begun to make any long term memories, and I didn't hold it against him for his clear acceptance of me in that capacity.

I just… I wasn't prepared for it.

The sting of the unconfirmed diagnosis in regards to the state of my mind was still fresh, the lack of what I was able to do to replicate this situation myself earth shattering in reality, but even with my heart wrenching sadness over the fact that I would never be able to produce my own child, to hear those words from their lips, I could not ignore the small flame of warmth that licked at my tightly locked, reluctant heart…

I had liked, beneath my grief, to hear myself called mother.

I knew I would never ask him not to say it again. I needed time, and some sort of closure that I did not yet know how to obtain, but one day I knew I would revel in this title. This was the first alternative to my plans to leave the state, to seek my fortunes elsewhere in the country, that I had ever found; they had always been cemented in place, ever since I had begun to plan for my presence in my brother-in-law's home in what felt like a century ago.

Now, though, in the wake of Roku's acclaim, a jagged, wide crack ran through my resolve; what would I be leaving behind if I left? Escaping Itachi's seductive presence had been the forefront of my reasoning for so long that I had never thought of the family I would be abandoning. Roku and Kenji depended on me heavily, I knew this… and yet I hadn't considered once what they would feel at the loss of their second mother figure.

I suddenly felt selfish and cruel, my heart shrinking in my chest and my lips pulling down at the corners mournfully.

Everything in me was now protesting leaving once my part was played, the pain I could cause something these children didn't need to feel again. But the reason why I needed to argued back, my sickening, desperate obsession with their father a subject I could not seem to drown under my surge of remorse. Neither were able to gain any ground, both standpoints looking just as solid and unbreakable as the other, and in the end, held beneath the questioning looks I was getting from Itachi from across his desk (Kenji and Roku were looking with interest at the scene of a rather loud traffic accident that had happened beneath their father's window), I merely put my thoughts to the side, leaving them to be considered later, when I could have time to think on my own without inhibition.

Lunch was a fairly sordid affair (at least for me); my plan had worked, but left me a mess of emotions and regrets. I mean, I had given Itachi a great present. Roku had never told him that he loved him before, and he had obviously enjoyed it quite a bit. But the reaction afterwards had completely taken the steam out of me and I didn't know what to do.

I wanted to be decisive and break from my sudden depression, I really did. But I couldn't, couldn't manage to twist my way out of the maze that I had firmly inserted myself into, so I pretended to be happy while we enjoyed the Chinese that Itachi had ordered, talking and laughing with my adoptive family while brooding moodily.

Apparently, I didn't know how to pretend as well as I used to, because when Kenji was cleaning up all of the takeout boxes, Itachi took me aside to "chat".

He shut the office door behind him, leaving the two children alone in the room while we talked. After making sure that they wouldn't be listening at the door, he turned to me, expression concerned. "Sakura, I couldn't help but notice that what Roku said earlier affected you negatively. I know that you are still upset about what happened with your own children… are you alright?"

I bit my lip, avoiding eye contact with him so I wouldn't disclaim his assumption and blurt out how much I wanted Roku's statement to be true. The loss of my own children had been difficult to bear, but I hadn't had a chance to bond with them, and as such the sting was less than what I had been truly feeling in response to Roku's assertion. "I'm fine. It just took me by surprise. It's no big deal…"

He laid his hand on my shoulder, leaning down so he could catch my eye. "It _is_ a big deal if it made you so sad that you couldn't even finish your lunch. You have no reason to hide anything from me… if there is some way that I can help you, all you have to do is say the word. I would do all in my power, Sakura. You know this."

I nodded, backing away a step so that I wouldn't act on my sudden desire to launch myself at him; he had no idea what he had just offered me. He hadn't meant it like I had taken it… he wasn't prepared to give me children of my own. "Thank you, Itachi… you are too kind to me."

He made a disparaging noise, waving my thanks aside. "Nonsense. You deserve all that I have to offer and more. But speaking of giving… was there a particular reason why you taught Roku to say that particular thing? I am grateful, but I am also… perplexed."

I swallowed thickly, choking on my sudden rush of conscious. Oh god… how had I forgotten my part in this whole encounter? I had tentatively prepared for this, unsure that he would catch on to the nuance of my own love, but after being swept away like I had been by Roku's surprise admission, I had completely forgotten about my half of the deal. I couldn't admit my feelings now, not with how confused and lost I was. Dang it… "Well… I wanted to do something special for you, and since today's your birthday and he had never told you before… I just thought you would like it. Better than some lame present, at least."

The look he gave me then was soft and grateful, and I could barely meet it for a few seconds, remorse for my trickery heavy on my mind. "Yes… better than any gift. Thank you, Sakura… I will never forget this."

With that, he turned and went back into his office, presumably to help his sons clean up. I stayed outside, staring at the space where he had been standing, lost in emotional turmoil.

On the one hand, I was guilt-ridden. He had no idea that half of the reason that I had taught Roku that at all was completely selfish. I wasn't sure how he would have reacted to being told that I loved him, now that he was acting so jealous and possessive and caring with me, but the thought of being rejected while still floundering beneath my conflicting viewpoints had been too much to consider. On the other hand, I was ecstatic. He had _loved_ it. And with his obviously unbound gratitude came a rush of confidence, dwarfing my indecision of only moments ago by an extreme. I had to try again, with a gesture that I couldn't back out of at the last minute.

If only I knew where to start…

"_Come on, Sak… come have dinner with him. I swear to god Sasuke isn't as bad you think he is, and he really wants to meet you. If it doesn't go well then you can hit me as hard as you want. That is how completely sure I am that you are so gonna fall for him."_

I blinked as the memory rushed to the forefront of my memory, the recollection of my reluctant first date with Sasuke, set up by none other than my second (second only to Itachi) best friend Naruto. Huh… well, he had said that he would help me find a new boyfriend…

Perhaps I could ask for some help from the enigmatic date master.

* * *

"Ooo! Look, Sakura! Look, look, look, look, look!"

"…I can see them, Naruto."

"No you can't! You're not looking! _Look_!"

_*sigh*_

"Alright, alright…"

I looked away from my knees, turning my gaze instead to the explosions going on over my and my friend's heads. The fireworks continued to dazzle, exploding into kaleidoscopes of bright, fizzling colors as the lightshow progressed. I cradled the beer bottle I was holding between my hands contemplatively, watching the pyrotechnics passively while my friends enthused over them in a slightly drunken, obsessive way.

I really hated the Fourth of July.

Barbeque, fireworks, beer… all important components of the holiday, and things that I hated more than almost anything. But I put up with it good naturedly (for the most part) so that I wouldn't ruin the traditional meeting for the rest of the people gathered here this evening. I might have ulterior motives for wanting to be here, but they just wanted to enjoy each other's company, and I wouldn't be the party pooper this time.

I took a shallow drink from my bottle, leaning back in the lawn chair I was seated in and surveying the night sky. I couldn't believe how long it was taking for Naruto to get bored and go inside… my plan required him being alone so I could question him over what the best plan of action to proceed in my love life should be… he was the only one I really trusted with this dangerous information, since I had known him for so long and, for some strange reason, he seemed to know what he was doing in relationships better than anyone else I knew, including myself.

And that's a sad commentary in and of itself.

Sighing, I blew one of my bangs out of my eyes, eyeing the multi colored sparkles overhead with somber boredom. I could barely bring myself to pretend to care as my friends oohed and awed over the bright flashing lights, their children running around and screaming joyfully in the waxing and waning shadows.

Every inch of my body was jumping in anticipation of a potential plan, and I could hardly wait to speak with my longtime friend. The only thing that kept me from going to hide in the house until the time came was the fact that I almost always seemed to have another motive for hanging out with my friends, and it made me feel guilty.

So I stayed seated, gritting my teeth against the nerves practically singing underneath my skin, and continued to watch the city's annual Fourth of July fireworks display.

I used the wasted time handily, of course; I had plenty to contemplate. What would he suggest that would help me grow closer to Itachi and finally gain what I wished from him? Was there really a solution? It was hard to believe that anything could be done to help me; surely I wasn't so helpless that I couldn't figure out a plan myself if there was one.

I had thought and thought for hours on end on the subject, coming to absolutely no conclusions. I would rather not think that I was, as they say, merely too close to the project.

Perhaps Naruto would have a secret technique that I could use to woo him, known only to those possessing a Y gene. I had no idea what that could be, but there had to be something they knew that women didn't. They couldn't have stayed the dominant sex for so long if that weren't the case.

I was so lost in my thoughts over my problem, gaze lost in space and ears deaf to my surroundings, that I completely missed when Naruto finally loudly announced that he was tired of watching the air catch on fire and retired inside to find another source of entertainment. When I did realize, however ("Shit! When did Naruto leave?" "Where have you been, ugly? How could you have missed that? He practically screamed at us like, five minutes ago." "Are you so bored that you actually fell asleep? I would have thought that you would at least notice the idiot throwing one of his temper tantrums, forehead." "Oh, shut it. I'll be right back." "Hey, make sure you use protection!" "Screw you, Sai. Screw you." "Ooo, a threesome? I'm down." "Ino, smack him over the head with something hard before I do."), I immediately went to seek him out, worried.

If I didn't catch him before he got too comfortable in front of one of the television sets, he would fall asleep. And there is no waking Naruto from a drunken slumber.

Fortunately I found him digging through the kitchen cupboards, a large bowl of popcorn and an even larger bowl of ramen already set out. He looked over at me when I stopped beside him, and he gave me a lopsided grin before closing the cupboard and clambering off of the counter, slinging an arm over my shoulders. "Well, it's nice to see you conscious again, sleeping beauty! I was thinking that you had passed out out there. Wanna come watch TV with me?"

I smiled and nodded, picking up his ramen for him and leading the way to his living room, making sure he sat down stably before sitting beside him and setting the steaming bowl down on the coffee table. While he surfed for a channel to watch, I twiddled my thumbs, trying to find a way to begin. I hadn't thought it would be so hard to broach the subject, especially with this man being my second best friend in the world, but I couldn't find the words all of a sudden.

Fortunately, he noticed me tripping over my own tongue and started for me.

"Look at you, struggling for words. Never thought I'd see the day. Calm down and spit it out, Sak; it's just me. You know that you can tell me anything," he said, settling for watching a cheesy action/ romance, and I nodded before swallowing most of my pride and going on.

"Well, Naruto… it's about… a man. That I want to get closer to."

He made a loud whooping sound and threw his hands in the air, almost upsetting his popcorn bowl before catching it hurriedly, spilling a few kernels onto the floor anyway. "HA! I _knew_ that you'd come to me for help with your next relationship. It's like I told you; I'm the master of romance. No one can match make better than me. Well, what can I do for ya that you can't do for yourself? The guy playing hard to get?"

I worried my lower lip with my teeth, twining my fingers together in my lap. "Well, it's… it's not that he's playing hard to get… he himself is hard to get. Our situation is incredibly complicated… but I think that I love him, Naruto. It's so hard, with our history and our family background… I'm almost afraid that if he finds out, he will completely and totally disown me. But I can't stand to just be friends with him anymore; it's killing me."

His eyebrows raised, his hand hovering over his forgotten popcorn. "Jesus Christ, you're serious about this dude. Who is he?"

My lips twitched up into a sad smile, my reluctant gaze rising to meet his expectant one. "That is where the full brunt of the problem lies…"

"It's Itachi."

Complete and total silence reigned. His jaw didn't drop; he didn't look shocked, angry, or even surprised. He almost looked like he expected me to start laughing and announce that it was actually April Fool's, not the Fourth of July. That was very discouraging, and I very nearly got up and ran from the room. But I forced myself to remain where I was, meeting his even and slightly amused expression.

It took him a few moments to realize that I was completely serious, and when he did, he sat back in the cushions of the sofa heavily, his eyes wide and face shell-shocked. "Wow, Sakura… that's… I can see why you haven't said anything before now."

My throat tightened painfully as I registered his disappointed tenor, and I looked down at my lap to hide the tears building in my eyes. "I know… I… I… I should probably go…"

I started to stand up, fully intending on finding somewhere to hide for the rest of my life, but he instantly sat forward and seized my arm, pulling me back down with a resolute shake of his head. "No, no, no, don't misunderstand me, Sakura. I's pretty much shocked stupid by this, but never think that I will think less of you for falling for weasel face. It's not your fault that he's a GQ model and pretty much comes built to be your perfect match. I think that even Sasuke would have expected this."

I froze, staring at him wordlessly. "W-what?" I stuttered, and he shrugged, picking a piece of lint off of his pant leg.

"Well, yeah. You've been best friends from pretty much the second you met. You fight like a married couple, you take care of each other and watch each other's backs, you share the same pain… and your personalities. Good god, if there isn't a better match anywhere then my name isn't Naruto Uzumaki. You two have an insane amount of chemistry..."

I could barely breathe with how heavy my chest felt as he expounded on the reasons why we should be together. I hadn't expected him to be so… _supportive_. I had only expected to maybe get some advice before he completely shunned me for falling for his best friend's brother. But he was sitting there with a goofy grin, telling me all the reasons that I should be with Itachi.

I almost looked up to see if the four horsemen were riding down on our heads.

"…and besides, being around when you two are together is like watching a really bad soap opera. There's so much sexual tension between you that I keep expecting him to drag you into an alley and ride you up against the wall."

My cheeks instantly colored, a gasp escaping my lips as I looked back up at my friend. "_Naruto_!" I chided, hiding my mouth behind my hands, and he grinned at me.

"What? I call 'em how I see 'em, Sak, you know that. And what I'm saying is, if you don't figure out what's going on with him, and soon, one of your fights is gonna turn into a fuck fest and it ain't gonna be pretty. One minute you'll be screaming at each other and the next, you'll be screwing like animals. Seen it a million times. Well, not personally, but… you know what I mean."

I buried my face in my hands in mortification, whining at him to stop, and he laughed before acquiescing. "Nevertheless… I see how you might have some problems with him. For being so frickin' smart and observant, the guy is about as romantically inclined as a brick wall; even as a married guy he wasn't in to PDA. The first thing you're going to need to do if you want him to even begin to be interested though is, sadly… taking that off."

His finger pointed down at my lap, and I followed the line he was indicating until my eyes rested on the object that he was indicating…

My wedding ring.

I flinched away from him, grabbing onto my left hand protectively. "What_? No_! I am _not_ going to take my wedding ring off just for _him_!"

Naruto sighed, running a hand through his already mussed up hair. "I know that it's hard, but really Sakura. What are you waiting for? Sasuke isn't coming back. Isn't a year and a half long enough?"

I bit my lip, averting my gaze again. "I… I know… but it's…"

His gaze turned sympathetic, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, patting my back comfortingly. "It's going to hurt you, leaving Sasuke behind for his brother, but just think: Sasuke would have wanted you to move on. And who better to take care of you in his stead than the person he was closest to, as well as the person who _you_ were closest to? Personally, I think that he would have wanted this for you and Itachi. You can be happy with him, and that's all that matters."

I blinked back the tears in my eyes, looking up at him sadly while fingering the metal circling my finger thoughtlessly. "It feels like I'm betraying Sasuke somehow, though… especially by moving on so quickly." He nodded, rubbing soothing circles between my shoulder blades. "You are doing nothing wrong. It's not like you ran into Itachi's arms the day after he died or anything… and you aren't constrained to be celibately devoted to Sasuke since he has passed on. People have relationships and get remarried after they get widowed all the time."

I pressed my lips together tightly, laying my head on Naruto's shoulder exhaustedly. How could I explain what our vows had meant to me? As long as we _both_ shall live. Both of us. That means me too. "I know, but…"

He interrupted, shushing me and patting the top of my head. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. I'll help you out, but you have to make the right decisions to get to where you want to be, and those are things you have to decide for yourself. Now, here's what you have to do…"

* * *

It was time.

I closed my eyes, leaning back in my desk chair as I braced myself for the inevitable decision that I had made only minutes ago. Today was July twenty-eighth, the day that Sasuke and I had been married. We would have been celebrating our two year anniversary today if he had still been alive…

I swallowed back the shiver of sadness that threatened to shake my body, opening my eyes and looking down at the wedding ring I had faithfully worn for the past two years, reaching down to touch the metal lingeringly.

I remembered the trouble we had gone through to get ahold of the rings in the first place, the months it had taken and the patience with which we had to deal with the ring company's slowness in making them. It had been worth the anxiety in the end when we had received them in the mail only two days before the wedding had been planned; the matching bands had brought tears to my eyes when he had opened the box to show me them.

Looking at them still made my gaze dim with unshed tears, but for a different reason now.

I sighed haltingly, twisting the ring around and around my finger. Coming to this decision had been hard, and wasn't without great consideration; I had spent the better part of the past two weeks trying to think of any way that I could avoid it. But I hadn't been able to, and so I had to do it.

Naruto was right… A year and a half was longer than allowable to pretend that Sasuke would be coming back and that I was still married… and pretending was getting me nowhere.

I had come to terms with what the action would mean… I was finally letting go of the man that I had loved more than anything I ever had before him, and I would be returning to the world that I had left more than half a decade ago. Allowing this to happen wasn't something that I looked forward to, but it was inevitable.

If I were to ever have a chance of winning the man that I loved now, I had to let my deceased husband stay where he truly was; the past.

Clenching my teeth, I averted my eyes and pulled the wedding ring from my finger, setting the band down on the desk with a heavy release of breath. I stared at the empty, indented space on my finger with pained eyes, my lower lip trembling as I forced myself to get up and, after picking up the ring, walk over to the shelf where my jewelry box was.

Opening the lid, I looked sadly on the ring that had belonged to Sasuke, nestled alone in the ring holder. It shone dully in the light streaming from the bedside lamp I had on in the gloom of the early morning, and I reached up hesitantly, touching my index finger to the neglected band. So many things had changed since he had been gone... I could hardly believe that it had been so long.

It didn't seem possible that the dream that I had lived in with my love had faded into the past.

"_Sakura! If you don't hurry up were going to be late! What? No, just leave the makeup off. You look better without it anyway. Now come on! We've got to go, or Itachi's going to get pissed off. You might not know him, but he will tell us off for being late. He's such a tight ass…"_

"_It's alright, sweetheart, there's nothing to be afraid of. It's just a thunderstorm, everything will be alright… I'm right here with you… I'll never let anything harm you. Just look at me and pretend you're somewhere else if you want to. That's it…"_

"_Sometimes I wonder why we like Naruto so much, Sakura. The idiot is nowhere near our level of intelligence, and yet he's our best friend. How did that happen? I've been questioned on it before, and half of the time I can't answer because I myself don't know. And then he does something like completely totaling his car by ramping off of a dirt pile, and I remember. There's no one funnier than he is. Someday I'm going to have to thank him for being so amusing; without him I never would have gotten you."_

"_I love you, Sakura, more than anything else in the whole world. I promise that I'll remind you every day for the rest of our lives, and never let you be sad or lonely ever again, but... I can't live another day not being tied to you in the tightest way possible. Please… please marry me."_

"_Never forget what I said in my vows, Sakura… I will always love you, no matter what. It's not your fault that we lost the baby, and we'll get another chance to be parents. So please… come to bed. I don't want to sleep alone again tonight."_

"_I'll be back soon, Sakura. I'm just going over to see Itachi for a couple of hours and then I'll come right home. Try to get up and do something while I'm gone, sweetheart… alright. I love you."_

The memories of his voice and his love resounded in my mind, echoing dimly in a way that made my heart ache. It hadn't been fair that we had had so little time together, but the world had a way of not being just. It was useless to try to fight it, so I might as well accept it. Make no mistake; I would love Sasuke for the rest of my life, even though he was gone. But it was long past time that I allowed my love for a living person take precedence over my memories of my lost husband.

You know what they say; love the one you're with.

Pressing my lips together tightly, I blinked residual tears from my eyes and slid my ring into the slot beside Sasuke's, standing looking at the pair of them for a few moments before closing the box and turning my back on it.

Now for the hard part: seducing Itachi Uchiha.

* * *

I didn't know what I was doing anymore.

I didn't even know why I bothered trying.

Three months… Three months of working and trying and doing everything that I could and I had achieved _nothing_.

I sighed heavily, leaning closer to the mirror I was looking in so I could successfully apply my mascara without poking myself in the eye. It had been a full fourth of a year since I had taken off my wedding ring and started my serious pursuit of Itachi, and nothing had come of it.

To be completely honest with myself, I wasn't really trying as hard as I could; I was afraid to be too forward and make my affection obvious if he was just going to ridicule me and shunt me to the side. But I would think that it would at least be a little weird that someone who has acted one way the whole time you've known them suddenly starts acting differently. Apparently I had given him too much credit…

Or he knew and he was trying not to hurt my feelings by ignoring my advances.

Either way, I had wasted nearly a whole year on pining over him and wishing he would notice me and dreaming about him loving me and I was nearly sick of it. The stunt I was pulling tonight was my last ditch effort to get his attention, and if this didn't work I didn't know what I was going to do. Inciting jealousy has been the chosen weapon of women for centuries, and so this would be my last try to garner his regard.

I certainly hoped that it worked; if it didn't then I would feel even more like a cad than I already did, because, as my instrument to provoke Itachi's interest in me, I had finally taken up Sasori's proposal of a date.

I pursed my lips in the mirror, looking over the makeup I had put on critically. Truthfully, it was much less than most women wore on a daily basis, but to me it felt like I was wearing pounds of the stuff. I wanted to be as attractive as possible (in order to draw Itachi's attention to the fact that I was going out with someone that I liked as more than a friend) without giving Sasori the wrong impression (which was that I was going to sleep with him), and that had required putting on makeup and, much to my shame, wearing a V-neck shirt and a much shorter skirt than I normally would have deemed appropriate.

I hated leading a man that I actually liked on, but… it was for the good of The Plan.

Smiling at the image in the mirror, I blew a jaunty kiss at it and turned away, clicking my way across my bedroom floor and out the door, throwing my purse over my shoulder and turning my light off. I listened carefully to the sounds on the house as I made my way across the landing to the stairs, trying to judge where everyone was in the house. From the banging and clanking coming from Roku's room, I could guess that he was in there playing with his toys and making an enormous mess. Nodding, I strained my ears around the rest of the upper floor but failed to hear anything, so I walked down the stairs carefully.

Now that I was on the main level I could see that Kenji was engaged in reading a book on the living room sofa, legs curled up and eyes flicking over the pages quickly. It didn't take much thought as to where Itachi was; the clicking of the coffee machine and the strong smell of the pungent drink betrayed his location easily. Smiling to myself, I walked over and sat next to Kenji.

He took a moment to reach the end of the sentence he was reading before glancing up from the book to see who was disturbing him, a look exactly matching one of Itachi's own impatient expressions gracing his features. When he saw who it was he instantly smiled at me and lowered the book, and then noticed my dressy appearance. His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up, his gaze lingering on the low cut front of my shirt and making an adorable blush rise to his cheeks.

"Wow… you look so pretty, Sakura." He said in awe, his book forgotten on the sofa beside him, and I inclined my head and laughed.

"Thank you, Kenji," I said in good humor, politely ignoring his still flushed demeanor. He struggled for a moment, trying to find something to say, before discovering that it would be easier to talk to me if he weren't looking at my breasts.

"Where are you going?" he muttered, eyes moving up to my face purposefully, and I giggled a little.

I was about to answer when I was interrupted by someone having a choking fit.

Distracted, we both turned to look on as Itachi coughed repeatedly in the doorway of the kitchen, holding his cup of coffee away from himself and wiping at his shirtfront where some more of the scalding liquid had spilled onto him. I got up to help him immediately, taking the cup from him so he could regain his breath more easily.

"Are you alright?" I asked, truly concerned. I had never in my life seen him choke on anything, much less spill on himself, and he nodded, calming his coughing with a little difficulty before looking down at the stain on his shirt with disgust.

"That's unfortunate… I just put this on," he murmured before seeming to realize that both Kenji and I were staring at him incredulously.

He met our gazes with a shrug, taking his coffee from me again. "I was drinking while walking and tripped over the doorjamb," he said simply, taking another drink before turning back to me with a contemplative eye. "I believe that Kenji asked a very good question of you, however; where are you going?"

I blinked at the rapid subject change, adjusting my purse on my shoulder. "I have a date tonight, actually, and I was just getting ready to leave."

He raised his eyebrows, setting his cup down on the coffee table and then folding his arms across his stained chest. "Is that right? How sad… I've been called into work, so I'm afraid that you're going to have to cancel."

I had already opened my mouth, ready to jokingly reprimand his surely jealous response, when I realized what he said and stopped. I stared at him incomprehensibly for a few moments, mouth opening and closing before I managed to force out a half put together response. "Wait, what? But… What?"

He looked amused by my spluttering, giving me the iconic, inherited Uchiha smirk that I loved and hated at the same time. "I'm sorry, I had assumed that you were not deaf; I said that you have to cancel your date. I received an extremely urgent summons and I need for you to stay here and watch the kids. Is that a problem?"

I blinked at him, stunned. This… this wasn't _fair_. How could he ever so seamlessly be ignoring my attempts to charm him and at the same time be keeping me from going anywhere dressed like this? Was he doing it on purpose?

"What do they need you for? Can't they handle it on their own?" I asked suspiciously, and he shook his head, shooting a mysterious look at Kenji.

"I had just been telling Kenji right before you walked in; there's a hostage situation at one of the subway stations and they need their best negotiator. I was going to show him the proper way to do calligraphy for a project in his class this evening, but I'm afraid that I am going to have to wait until a later date to show him now. Once again, son, I'm sorry."

Kenji nodded, eyes lowering to his book as he ran his eyes over the back cover. "Of course dad. I understand."

Satisfied that his son wasn't too disappointed in him, he turned his gaze back to me. "I am sorry that you have to miss your date as well, Sakura. I'm sure you are discomfited by this, but perhaps it can be rescheduled for a later date. I hope that your intended won't be too put off by the cancelation; it would be a shame to lose such an opportunity due to a fault of mine. I don't think that I could forgive myself for that."

I rolled my eyes at his unreadable tone, turning my back and stomping back over to the stairs moodily so I could go change into more comfortable clothes and call Sasori.

"Oh, don't worry about it, he won't be mad; he never is," I said snippily, letting my anger show more than I was proud of as I marched up the stairs and then slammed my bedroom door behind me.

This wasn't going at all according to plan. He hadn't even seemed to care that I was going on a date… that I was dressed like a two penny slut… I kicked my high heels off angrily, throwing my purse on the floor and growling.

God damn it, why couldn't he just be a normal man?!

I huffed temperamentally for a few more moments, pacing restlessly, before letting out a frustrated sigh and starting to pull some regular clothes from my dresser. I had already known the answer before the question had even fully formed in my mind…

I wouldn't love him if he were anyone but Itachi.

* * *

After a few more attempts to go out on dates with Sasori and get Itachi's attention, I finally came to the conclusion that I would never be able to get him this way. Every single one of my attempts were foiled, either by one of the kids needing me or Itachi being called in to work at the last minute. I would have been suspicious of the circumstances, but they were too differing and random for them to be anything but coincidences.

Nevertheless, I decided that, true to my word, I would desist in my efforts to charm him since they were so ineffective anyway (I would have to speak with Naruto about another method, since none of the ones that he had suggested had worked). I couldn't help the occasional swooning fit when I saw him shirtless (it seemed to be happening more often than it had previous to my low handed attempt to catch his attention; perhaps it was my imagination), and my dreams and unconscious yearnings for him merely grew stronger as I had suspected that they would, but I refused to force myself on someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with me romantically (notwithstanding his constant and perplexing attention towards me; surely staring at your sister-in-law for more than ten minutes at a time could be considered outside familial intimacy).

The months passed more quickly than I had thought that they would (despite the saying, time flies whether you are having fun or not), and once again it was that time. I really don't know how it kept sneaking up on me like it did, but in the end I gave up trying to think about it… it only made it hurt more.

It had been two years ago today that I watched my husband drown in his own blood.

I sighed as I walked down the stairs in Itachi's apartment slowly, making my way towards the lower level of the living quarters. It was hard to believe that another year had passed already; it seemed like just yesterday that I had been wallowing in misery over the first anniversary of Sasuke's death. I had already gone to visit his grave (talking to him and despairing over my hopeless infatuation with his silent presence), and now I didn't know what to do with myself as I watched the moon rising behind the picture windows that made up one of the walls of the apartment.

I remembered what I had done to weather the misery of the day last year; I had been incapacitated all day, the tears never stopping as I cowered in a corner of my room, and after a straight ten hours of crying I had finally been able to drop off into a fitful, nightmare filled sleep. I refused to let myself do such a thing again, so I was doing the next best thing…

This was why I was sitting down next to my brother-in-law in the living room at eight o'clock that evening (I had kept my mind occupied most of the day with menial cleaning), pouring myself a tumbler of Bowmore's finest.

Itachi looked over at me quizzically as I took the seat on the couch next to him heavily, sipping from the glass of scotch in my hand tentatively as he drank deeply from his own (the kids were staying the night at his parent's house again, since he had wanted to be able to get wasted in the privacy of his own home tonight and didn't want them to see him like this).

"Well, this is new; I don't believe we've ever drunk together," he said openly, and I shrugged, crossing my legs up onto the sofa with me.

"I thought I might try something new this year… I didn't want to be alone and I kind of figured that you might not want to be either." This wasn't necessarily true; I didn't really mind being alone. The fact that I would cry myself into a stupor if I were to be left to my own devices kept me from wanting to do so, though, so I decided that tonight, just once, I would forget about trying to make Itachi love me and just enjoy his company while trying to forget the worst day of my life.

He looked at me silently for a moment, obviously considering my statement carefully, before clinking his glass against mine in agreement, and with that, we proceeded to drink ourselves into an early grave.

Everything became absolutely hilarious as the evening wore on. The simplest things like air and my shoes were sources of endless entertainment for us, and when we weren't playing some sort of ridiculously amusing drinking game we were talking about the most random things in the world (apparently, the subject of hook and eye latchets occupies his drunken mind quite readily).

I can honestly say that he had been right in his allegation of two years previous; drinking took away all of the bad memories and replaced them with the here and now, easily erasing inhibitions and allowing for behavior that wouldn't have been approved of by either of us had we been sober. It was a wonderful feeling, not caring about what Itachi might be thinking as I seated myself laughingly on his lap and took the rubber band out of his hair so that I could feel his long, soft strands flowing through my fingers freely, just because I wanted to.

I could get used to feeling this way.

But no matter how much fun I was having, and no matter how much I liked having Itachi's hands slowly climbing their way up my legs as he continually grew more and more wasted with every glass of alcohol he consumed, I realized that, with a lopsided glance at the clock, I would have to get to bed soon or I would never make it there.

Blinking heavily, I turned to look at the man I was straddling, slapping his hand away from my thigh playfully. "Hey… I think that I need to go to bed," I slurred, laughing a little at how stupid I sounded, and he nodded more vigorously than he normally would, immediately trying to stand up with me still astride him.

"That's a good idea..." he said, trying to gain his feet and move me at the same time, and it didn't work so well. In fact, he only succeeded in getting himself an accidental elbow in the gut as I tried not to fall off of him.

Winded, he fell back down onto the sofa, in the same motion nearly pushing me onto the floor, and when I reached out to him to save myself from falling, something that I'm not sure was completely coincidental occurred.

I don't know how it happened; the thick, warm alcohol flooding my veins made my attention slip away for a moment and when I had regained clarity, I had somehow fallen against him, my hands on his shoulders from my effort to steady myself, and I was _kissing_ him.

_God_, I loved how his lips fit against mine.

It took me awhile to realize what I was doing (after coming to the knowledge that I was kissing Itachi my lips gained lives of their own), even longer than that to recognize the fact that he was participating in the sloppy movements of my mouth against his (not only was he reciprocating, he had taken complete dominance of the kiss, his lips moving against mine powerfully and his hands crushing me against his chest), but when I did I immediately pulled back, our mouths separating with a wet smack of breaking suction.

This wasn't acceptable. I was supposed to be honoring Sasuke and his memory and yet here I was, sitting on his brother's lap like a whore and forcing myself on him while he was intoxicated. This was wrong, and horrendously selfish, and… I needed to get off of him.

_Now_.

But for some reason, even with my complete knowledge of the sheer immorality of my situation, I couldn't move an inch from my position as I sat back a few inches, looking into the slightly glazed eyes of the man I was still straddling.

I felt flushed and breathless as I stared at the hopelessly drunk man I had just molested, and he stared back, one eyebrow raised questioningly as if wondering why we had stopped kissing. An undeniable, unquestionable, and utterly recognizable feeling was building between us quickly, and as much as I tried to ignore it, it demanded both of our attentions inescapably; lust was not something that you could disregard while sitting on an obviously aroused male's lap, no matter how drunk you are.

He allowed me only one second after realizing what exactly was pressed between my legs before he reached for me again.

Itachi pulled me forward against his chest, crushing his lips against mine with a heated fervor that I hadn't thought him capable of. His hands wandered down my back to cup my ass as his tongue intruded my mouth insistently, pressing me down gently while thrusting his hips upwards, grinding his erection against my center harshly.

This was not so much surprising as just drunkenly unexpected; subtlety and reserve played _no_ part in his personality, so it wasn't that much of a shock that he was straightforward in this matter as well.

I gasped against his lips despite myself, a blush fighting its way up through the alcohol, and he drew back to look at it with a confident smirk lifting his mouth before he did it again, watching me cry out in surprised pleasure at the friction his action caused. He looked far too pleased with himself for me to stand for this kind of teasing, however, so I reciprocated by pressing myself down on him and slowly rolling my hips.

Almost unconsciously his head dropped back against the backrest of the sofa and he groaned lightly. "_God, _yes…" he growled, looking back up at me with obvious lust in his gaze and grabbing ahold of my hips with forceful hands. "Do that again."

I grinned before complying, starting up a steady but agonizingly slow rhythm. He made small sounds of appreciation while I rode his clothed and straining member and kissed him repeatedly, his fingers digging into my hips and pressing me down against him harder than I would have done if he had allowed me to pull back.

This continued for approximately two and a half minutes before I broke away from his lips, leaned down, and licked his neck while rubbing myself against him. Apparently, this shocked him out of his pleased stupor and into the next level of lust because only seconds after my tongue completed its climb up the column of his throat, I found myself kneeling on the floor between his legs, the fingers of his one hand dug into my hair and the digits of the other fumbling with the buckle of his belt.

I giggled, drunkenly tickled by his eagerness to progress to the next stage of the forbidden acts I was letting him indulge in. It was glaringly obvious what he wanted me to do, with his manhood practically begging to be released from his pants and the insistence with which he was trying to tug his zipper down; he wanted me to suck him off.

My teasing seemed to have had an adverse effect on him; I wasn't sure if he would let me deny him even if I wanted to.

It took him a few tries, but in the end he succeeded, finally getting his pants undone (I had almost been ready to slap his hands away and do it myself) and pulling them and his boxers down low on his hips one handed, letting his erection spring free from the tight confines of his pants. I had known, from having the thing rubbing against me, that he was well endowed, but seeing it for myself made me realize that I had thought too little of him; he was rather privileged (or maybe it was just my intoxicated, infatuated mind making him look much bigger than he really was).

I felt bad for thinking it, but my inebriated mind didn't care that I didn't want to compare the only two men I had ever seen in this context; he was clearly bigger than Sasuke had been.

He smirked at my shocked expression before tugging me forward, indicating what he wanted with a wordless nod in the direction of his crotch. I pretended ignorance, however, shrugging cutely and blinking up at him in faux confusion. He didn't appreciate my sense of humor, apparently; the next thing I knew, my lips had been forced open with a growl of annoyance from him and he had bent me over his lap and thrust himself into my mouth.

I looked up at the impatient man through my eyelashes knowingly, flushing from my sudden spike in arousal (his impatience and need for control were intoxicating), before slowly dragging my tongue up his length, the hand that wasn't propped up against his knee coming up to stroke up and down the excess shaft that I wasn't currently tonguing lingeringly.

I wouldn't try his patience too much; _I_ had come onto _him_, after all.

His moans of pleasure were louder now as I licked at the slit on the head of his manhood, pulling my tongue over and around him repeatedly while trying to get a response from him. I got it quickly enough; after a couple more light passes over him he twisted his fingers into my hair roughly and pushed down on the back of my head, forcing me to take a few inches of him into my mouth.

"Stop teasing and _suck _it already," he barked, and, with a shudder of pleased mortification (apparently, my need for dominance hadn't faded over the past few months), I obeyed, relaxing my throat and taking his whole length into my mouth.

He obviously hadn't been expecting that, because his eyes shut tight and his breath left him all at once, along with a few surprised explicatives and a lustful encouragement for me to continue. I did as I was told, sucking him as hard as I could before bobbing my head up and down, hollowing my cheeks and putting as much pressure on him as was allowable considering the sensitivity of the implement I was forcing down my throat.

He did nothing to discourage anything that I wished to do to him as his mouth hung open slightly in lascivious rapture, watching with hungry and lecherous eyes as I gave him head. One hand was clenched tight on the armrest of the sofa, his knuckles white from the force with which it was being held, and the other was still curled into my hair, rising up and down with the movements of my head over his lap while moan after ragged moan were dragged from his body.

He lasted a good ten minutes before the muscles in his legs and abdomen tightened noticeably and a dirty, lewd groan leaked past his lips, his head falling backwards as his hips thrust upwards unconsciously. Not half a second later his come flooded past my lips and hit the roof of my mouth, taking me by surprise and making me spill a little bit down my chin and his length before I gained control of the spurts of seed.

I swallowed everything that he released (Sasuke had told me once that this was an immense turn on, I recalled blearily), even going so far as to tongue his receding erection clean of any excess semen once he was done so his suit pants wouldn't get stained.

Apparently watching me lick his come off of his flaccid length was the metaphorical straw that broke the camel's back, because he growled in appreciation and tugged me away from his lap, making me look up and meet his gaze with a firm hand holding onto my chin.

There was only one way to explain the way Itachi was looking at me in that moment. His eyes stated his desire loud and clear as they moved over the trail of semen slowly leaking down from the corner of my lip, the aroused flush of my cheeks, and my mussed up hair; he wanted me in the worst way, and he was going to have me.

And there was no way in hell that I would stop him.

I didn't have time to think as he leaned down and claimed my mouth with his again, tongue sneaking out to taste his own essence where it had settled on my lips as he tugged his pants up and into a semi done up position. I couldn't comprehend the fact that what I was letting him do to me was wrong as he struggled to stand, the cushions of the couch spilling onto the floor as he awkwardly regained his feet and pulled me up with him. I couldn't bring myself to consider that he wasn't in control of himself or even in his right mind as he dragged me up the stairs and down the hallway to his bedroom, his hands wandering my body and his lips never leaving mine for a second even though we knocked down numerous objects on the way.

I didn't want to think anymore. I had taken up too much time with thinking. I had spent far too long worrying and fretting and being guilty. I just wanted to feel…

And god help me, did he make me feel.

The second that we were in his room, the door shut solidly behind us, he started dragging my clothes off. I didn't mind, really; I had wanted this for so long that if I didn't have him soon I felt like I would explode. His movements were jerky as he stripped me and then himself, and I had to catch him to keep him from falling over when he was stepping out of his pants, yet another unheeded reminder that he was piss drunk and that this was _wrong_.

My only thoughts were that I wished that I could have seen what his completely naked body looked like; I had been fantasizing over it for the better part of a year and now that I was here, I could see no more than his silhouette in the moonlight leaking through his slightly parted blinds.

And I wasn't happy about it.

He appeared to be thinking the same thing as he finally divested himself of his last article of clothing, because the shock of his hands moving over my bared skin gently made the fact that he was exploring me all too clear. His mouth moved over my ear as he ran his fingers over my shoulders, down my back, around my stomach and up my ribs to trace their way across the skin on the undersides of my breasts. "I want you _now_, Sakura…" he muttered huskily as he gripped me fully in his large hands, and I gasped as he pressed his already re-erected manhood against my abdomen meaningfully.

I swallowed thickly before reaching down to touch him with hesitant fingertips, the hardened flesh of his sex silky under my touch. His chest rumbled slightly as I traced a finger down his length, teasing him with my fingernail as I rounded the head of his member playfully. He was fidgeting now, obviously frustrated by the slight amount of stimulation, and when I continued to do nothing but lightly caress his length, he let out a nearly inaudible growl as he lost control of himself.

He moved my hand away and leaned down to kiss me roughly while pushing me back at the same time, clumsily guiding me to the edge of the bed. His tongue wrapped around mine tauntingly as he picked me up off of the ground completely, climbing on to his bed and placing me somewhere in the center. My heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest as he took his place on top of me, his hand sliding underneath my backside to lift me into a more accessible position.

Foreplay obviously wasn't a part of the bedroom experience with him (though if I thought about it, we had already done all the necessary foreplay down in the living room), so I had very little time to berate myself for allowing this to get so far out of control as he gave himself a couple of preparatory pumps, spreading a few pearly drops of precome over the head of his manhood with his thumb to ready himself for entering me.

This wasn't right, and I knew it. I shouldn't be taking advantage of him like this… I should stop this _now_. I should, and could; I knew that, even though he was drunk, he would respect my wish to stop. But the scotch sloshing through me and my insatiable need for him convinced me not to say a word, to only bite my lip in anticipation as he positioned himself at my entrance and to let out a cry of the greatest pleasure as he pushed himself inside of me with a deep but controlled thrust of his hips.

The first thing I thought of was how long it had been since I had had sex. A little more than two years… it was a long time, and I had kind of expected it to hurt a little more than it did. But even with my underused body and his larger than anticipated girth (yeah, he was definitely as big as I had thought), I had only a moderate amount of discomfort with the situation as he came to a standstill, allowing me time to adjust to him.

The second thing I thought of was how much I wished I could see his face as he held himself over me on slightly shaking arms, his long dark hair veiling us from the world. I wanted to know if he was watching me in the wan light. I wanted to look on when he saw how much he would be pleasuring me and I wanted to watch his expression as he… climaxed…

Shit. He hadn't put on a condom…

I only worried about that for a split second because, when I decided that my leg needed to move over a little, I accidentally tightened myself around Itachi's manhood. This resulted in forcing a moan from him, his head drooping and his arms shaking even more as he held himself back. This wasn't what I wanted, however (the condom problem had been forgotten the second I felt him slide deeper into me with my movement); I was quickly growing impatient and wanted him to move, so when the sound had finished leaking from his lips, I grinned and did it again.

This was, apparently, a mistake, because instead of leaving him prostrate with stimulating temptation, his eyes rose to meet mine, glinting wickedly in the near darkness, and all I could see from his gaze was _hunger._ I didn't have time to regret teasing him, because with a deep, shuddering exhalation, his control snapped.

He growled ferally and leaned down, placing his lips next to my ear as he sat up on his knees, his hands moving down to grip my waist tightly.

"I suppose I can assume, from your behavior, that you are ready. I certainly hope so… because I'm gonna fuck you through the floor," he muttered huskily, his tone sending a primal shiver of instinctually submissive fear down my spine, and then his hips drew back. With an evil, meaningful smirk sent my way through the pressing darkness, he moved down to suck on my breast and, in the same motion, drove himself back into me with enough force to rip a cry of ecstasy from my surprised lips.

It wasn't what I had expected from him; whenever I had imagined coming to bed with him I thought that he would be gentle, loving, maybe a little playful… I had underestimated him. He showed no remorse for the rapid, jarring thrusts he delivered and obviously had no desire to keep our tryst quiet, either, if his commands to moan and to scream his name as he pounded into me were anything to go by.

The way that he was dominating me, holding me beneath him and dictating my pleasures and, without mercy or repentance, driving me into the mattress beneath us with each rough shove of his hips, made it clear that this wasn't just sex. He wasn't bothering to make love to me in any way, no gentleness in the grip of his hands or the bite of his mouth; hell, what he was doing couldn't even be put as lightly as him screwing me. He was trying to make a point, making sure that I knew something about him and his sexual prowess, and the way he was going about it was very clear; true to his word, he was _fucking_ me.

And I loved every second of it.

Sasuke had never exactly been a gentle lover and had enjoyed exerting his authority over me, but he had never completely _owned_ my body like Itachi did. Even in bed the man was a commander, telling me exactly what he wanted, how he wanted it and completely expecting to receive it immediately.

He subjugated me and our union mercilessly and shamelessly; he didn't even bother using words to tell me when we were changing positions or how to hold my body most of the time. He either expected me to know (and kinkily punished me whenever I faltered or failed to act at all) or changed it for me, showing his complete and total mastery of the art of coitus with the slightest touch of his hand and brush of his lips.

As the minutes multiplied and the night grew longer, I lost count of the times Itachi brought me to orgasm or the amount of positions he changed us to. He only seemed to grow more and more energized as we continued, his mouth leaving territorial marks along my shoulders and neck as his fingers dug grooves into my hips and his bed rocked against the wall, beating a steady but heated tattoo into the night.

I'll admit it; I got tired. It had been too long since I had had to have endurance sex, and I wasn't really up to the challenge anymore. This didn't seem to bother him; in fact, he happily made up for my lagging energy with enthusiasm.

Finally, after what seemed like at least two hours of nonstop, mind numbingly _amazing_ sex, the movements of his hips began to become erratic, signaling the approach of his ending. When his back bent over me and his breaths became shallow and quick, I tightened myself around him purposefully and locked my ankles around his hips, forcefully holding him inside of me with drunken eagerness, and, with a passionate cry of sheer pleasure, he tensed, clutched at my hips desperately, and spilt his seed inside of me, my name slipping between his lips in a guttural groan.

The gushes of semen rebounded off of my cervix, making shivers run up my spine with every spurt, and, when I had reached my maximum capacity, it spilled out of me and onto the rumpled sheets I lay on top of, surprising me with the sheer amount that he had released.

This might have worried me if I had been capable of caring at the moment.

Even with the workout he had just gone through Itachi didn't collapse immediately like Sasuke always had (I slapped myself inwardly for comparing them again), holding himself up on his arms while he caught his breath before pulling out of me and falling to the side, wiping a hand over his sweaty forehead. I was still panting, absolutely blown away by drunken amazement over what had happened, when he grabbed on to me and dragged me over to him, pulling me halfway onto his chest and wrapping his arm around my bare waist before pressing a gentle kiss to my swollen lips and pulling the bed sheets over our entwined bodies.

My heart ached happily as I snuggled close to him, burying my nose in his hair as his fingers traced sleepy patterns on the small of my back. He wanted to sleep with me… I had almost expected him to kick me out after we had finished. I let out a small, pleased sigh, closing my eyes as I listened to Itachi's breathing regulate into the deep, heavy breaths of contented slumber before admitting what I had been holding in for longer than anything I ever had in my life.

"I love you, Itachi..."

After a few tense moments of waiting for him to ridicule me, I was sure in my assumption that he was asleep and let myself drift off too, smiling happily and thinking nothing of the repercussions of the horrendous crime I had just committed.

* * *

Morning came too quickly for my strangely aching body.

I flopped an arm over my eyes, trying to ignore the voice in my head telling me that something was wrong as I yawned drowsily. Nothing was wrong; I was in a warm bed, the sun wasn't up yet, I had had the most wonderful dream in the world…

I smiled, giggling shyly as a blush crept up my cheeks. It had been especially vivid this time, and so unlike my other dreams; Itachi had been incredibly rough as he took me over and over again in his own bed, and…

I paused in shock as I felt someone shift next to me, rolling over in their sleep. My eyes shot open and I turned to look at the person sleeping next to me, slowly comprehending that it hadn't been a dream; Itachi was lying beside me, hair spread beautifully over his pillow as he continued to sleep (I realized belatedly that I wasn't in my own bed either when I noticed the sheets were a different color than mine), something in his dream making a small smirk curl the corner of his lips up.

No… no, no, no, I hadn't done this. It couldn't be true.

Fear and desperation washed over me and I sat up, head pounding uncomfortably while I searched frantically for anything that could possibly give me something that would help me prove that it wasn't true. But everywhere I looked there was evidence of my sin; my clothes spread and entwined with Itachi's on the floor at the end of the bed, the bite marks covering my body, my naked presence in brother-in-law's room and bed, the sticky wetness that still dripped from between my legs…

_No_…

I scrambled hastily from the bed that I didn't belong in, grabbing up my discarded clothes as quickly as I could so I could get out of his room before the tears starting to cascade down my cheeks could turn into full-fledged sobs. I just barely made it, the door shutting almost silently behind me, as a gut wrenching cry of absolute despair pulled from my throat.

What had I done? God, how _could_ I…

I stumbled as fast as I could for my room, shutting the door behind me and casting about wildly for something, anything that I could do to make this right. There was a good chance that he wouldn't remember; he had told me that he often couldn't recall what happened while he was drunk. But I couldn't just pretend that this had never happened while staying in his home…

I had betrayed him, and his brother, by being a needy, selfish, opportunistic…

I choked back another cry as I ripped clothes from my dresser, throwing them on without caring whether they matched and ignoring my showerless and soiled condition. I didn't even give the high chance of an accidental pregnancy a considering thought as I searched frantically for my shoes. My thoughts were focused on one thing and one thing only: I had to get out of here. I had to leave and _never_ come back.

My crime, my treachery… was worse than anything else I could have ever done.

I only paused to grab my wallet before tripping down the stairs as quietly as possible, trying my best to ignore the mess lying on the ground that showed where Itachi had slammed me against the wall last night, his kisses harsh and demanding. The couch was particularly painful to look at, the cushions lying on the floor from where he had thrown them after I had…

I bit back another sob as I wrenched the front door open and walked hurriedly from the place that had become my home, forcedly turning my back on a place where I had never truly belonged. I was no longer welcome here, with what I had done…

I don't even remember how I managed to get down all of the stairs without having a breakdown, but somehow I ended up in the lobby and without a second thought I headed towards the front doors. I wouldn't take my car, a gift from Sasuke… I no longer deserved it. I wouldn't even use the money that Itachi had paid for our house. I had enough from what I got paid as a writer to survive for a while, somewhere far away from here.

"Well, you're up early. Where are you headed?" I jumped nervously, turning to meet the curious gaze of Sasori. I swallowed, hurriedly brushing the tears from my cheeks, but he saw them before I could hide them, and his expression became serious at once.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, visibly concerned, and I shook my head, looking over his shoulder nervously.

"No… no, I've made a mistake, Sasori… I need to leave," I said helplessly, twisting my fingers together, and his eyes dropped to the motion before doing a double take on my neck. I was sure that he would be able to see the evidence of my transgression from the marks that remained there, and he was more than intelligent enough to draw the correct conclusion from them.

Apparently I was right, because his gaze narrowed and he nodded, not bothering to question my reasoning. "I see. Do you need any help?"

I shook my head, heart beating faster in alarm as the light above the elevator dinged on. "Just… thank you for being my friend. I'm sorry I never got to go with you on that date, but I have to go now. I'm so sorry."

I started backing away, and he shook his head, taking a step after me. "Running isn't the answer, Sakura. Surely you can work things out with Mr.…"

I shook my head violently, the tears running again freely. "No, I can't. What I've done is unforgivable…"

He stopped, looking me over calculatingly. "Tell me where you're going at least."

I bit my lip, backing away another step. "I don't know. Somewhere far away… as far as the bus will take me." With one last glance at the steadily dropping hand on the elevator floor indicator, I fled out the doors, quickly hailing a cab as I rushed to the edge of the street.

I collapsed into the relative safety of the backseat, giving the cab driver directions to the nearest Greyhound bus station and settling back to wait. I did my best to keep from crying as the streets of New York City passed my window, but I failed several times and merely kept them silent so as not to concern the Arab man in the front seat.

I was still in shock that I could do something so foolish and heartless. I had used Itachi's drunkenness to my own benefit, tricked him into sleeping with me…

_Itachi… if you remember, never forgive me for what I've done to you. If you don't remember, just forget about me and all the problems I've caused you. You'll be better off without me… I'm sure I don't need to tell you that._

_Sasuke…_

I shuddered, remorse and anguish washing mountain sized waves over me as I thought of the look of disgust he would have on his face as he looked at me, the worthless, pathetic slut that slept with his brother while he was drunk stupid.

_Sasuke… how could I have forgotten our agreement so easily? I left you behind to chase after your own brother, and now I've committed such an act of inexcusable thoughtlessness that even you couldn't find it in your heart to forgive me. _

I dropped my head into my hands, letting the despair razing my body have its way with me.

_As long as we both shall live… how I've soiled our promise._

* * *

_Woo hoo! That's this chapter done… confused? Don't understand completely? Good! Because never fear, I am not finished yet! Up next: Itachi's side of the story! (That's going to be fun :D)_

_Heh… that took longer than I had thought that it would. Mostly because I realized that I had left out some vitally important information thanks to some of the reviews I received, and I had to hurriedly make up like, three extra scenes to explain things. Thank you again, __**DarkItachi22**__ and __**LaughsRFun**__. You totally saved my ass._

_Extra special thanks go out to my compadre __**Sasukeluva 4eva**__; without you I would still be using those fugly X's. XD thank you for reviewing and helping me out even though I totally murdered your husband, and for having patience with me on the subject of my laziness concerning Sasuke and Me. The next chapter is all for you, girl (which, fyi, I am writing right now) :)_

_Anywho, please review! I would like to know what you all think, and there's no better way than dropping me a line!_

_Ta until next time, my friends!_

_*FYI- this term is entirely fictional. I made it up for my own purposes, so don't bother going and trying to find out more about it._


	4. Itachi

_Yes, it's me again, with the super-fast update that I promised, though it is a bit later than I promised to a certain somebody… I'm sorry once again, __**itsmycupcake**__, but for your patience and general love, this chapter is dedicated to you. :)_

_Alrighty, fan girls, get ready to scream… heeerrrreeessss Itachi! :D this will be an interesting POV to write from, let me tell you… I might not pull it off very well. I hope I can get into character and do it though, for your sakes. And on with the show, dontcha know! (Look, I'm a poet! XD …not really. Just ignore that.)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, guys. I'm sure you're glad that I don't, because all the sexy boys would be my slaves, Karin would have been crucified the second I saw her (not a loss, to be sure), and I would be supreme overlord of the world. You wouldn't like that. Promise._

* * *

Chapter 4: Itachi

* * *

This was _unacceptable_.

My eyes narrowed even further than they already were, my hands making the quick movements on the steering wheel that would allow me to maneuver my car through the achingly slow early morning traffic.

Biting back a growl of annoyance as I was cut off for the third time within two minutes, I hit my brakes and honked my horn angrily. Did these imbeciles not understand the reason for my haste? Was it really so hard for them to let me have my way once in my entire life? If I continued to be hindered by these fools, I would lose my lead and then…

She would be lost to me forever.

I gritted my teeth, firmly pushing the depressing and gut-wrenching thought aside. I had no reason to doubt that I would be successful in my pursuit. No one had ever escaped me if I set my mind to catching them, and I had never been as concentrated and desperate before, and that was saying something.

I _had_ to find her. I _had_ to catch her. I had to _tell_ her before it was too late.

Embroiled in my thoughts as I was, it took me a few seconds to notice the opening being offered in front of me, and when I did finally take notice, it was already closing, another driver taking advantage of my slowness. I hurriedly stomped my gas pedal to the floor, revving my engine deafeningly and shooting through the infinitesimal space in the very nick of time.

Thank god for this time saving investment of mine; I would be lost without my car.

I eased up on the gas as I, at long last, burst through the traffic and onto the Jersey exit, slowing down to a leisurely 145 miles per hour while weaving between the slower and thankfully spread out drivers on the open highway. The ease of driving at paces that were more comfortable to me gave my twisted mind a chance to consider the situation I found myself in, finally, and just considering it made a confused frown twitch the corner of my mouth down.

Last night… had been perfect. Everything I had ever dreamed it would be, my first time with the girl that I was so insufferably intoxicated by… and then I had woken up alone, the front door slamming shut downstairs and betraying her flight.

A tremor of pure rage shook my hands, anger roiling beneath my skin. How _dare_ she leave like this. How could she leave me like nothing had happened, like we were just friends… no, mere _acquaintances_, with the way that she hadn't said a word before departing? That was not how she operated. She was a just, fair person; she wasn't like my late wife had been.

_She_ would never intentionally betray me.

I shook my head, removing the resentful thought from my mind the second that it touched it as my foot became heavier and heavier on the gas pedal, speeding my journey by leaps and bounds. I would not think of such a thing when I had moved on from it long ago. My wife's infidelity no longer bothered me as it once had, because I had someone else who I knew would never hurt me the same way. Someone I could count on, someone I could trust with everything that I possessed… someone I had loved for what seemed like an eternity.

Why had she done it, then? Why had she left me?

I clenched my jaw, passing a caravan of minivans and leaving them in the far more than metaphorical dust. She must be frightened by the intricacy of what had occurred the night previous, by what this would mean for our relationship. I don't know how she could not know that she had nothing to fear from me… I would not spurn her for the comment she had let slip in the early hours of the morning, when she thought that I was sleeping… how could she have not seen that I felt the same? The fact of the matter was, however, that she hadn't. I should not have expected her to just _know_. It was my duty to tell her how I felt, and I hadn't.

I could not, due to propriety, blame her for her flight.

In the distance, I saw the hulking outline of the object that I was speeding after silhouetted against the barely lit horizon; a Greyhound bus, chugging along determinately despite the outdated technology powering the machine. Thank god… it had not gone far. If it had taken a turn without my knowledge, I would never have found it.

Pressing the gas pedal all the way to the floor again, I shot forward on the otherwise deserted road, quickly gaining on the vehicle. Once I had come abreast to it, however, I found myself with no idea where to go from here. Now that I had caught up with it… how was I supposed to stop it? I hadn't thought of that…

Quickly coming up with a decision, I kept going past the bus, speeding farther up the road in front of it so that I would have time for my plan. Gaining approximately a football field worth of distance between us, I quickly shifted to park, spinning my car sideways and skidding to a halt. Forcing my expression into stoic sullenness, I pulled my door open and exited the car, standing in front of the ajar door and inserting my hands into my pockets, facing the approaching bus bravely.

I could only hope that its brakes didn't fail.

Smoke from my skinned tires drifted past me in the early morning sunlight, clouding my vision slightly as the bus driver obviously saw my foolish and melodramatic action and frantically hit his own brakes, skidding a good twenty feet before coming to a rest mere yards away. His expression told me everything that I needed to know about what the pudgy man thought of the situation, and it didn't make me hopeful. I had little time to consider the driver, however, switching my gaze instead to one of the pairs of eyes locked on me from one of the very front seats of the bus as I approached the vehicle slowly, wide, bright green eyes lined with red from crying locking with my own.

Eyes that I had imagined in my dreams more times than proper. Eyes that had gazed into mine with more emotions than I should have been privy to. Gorgeous eyes, magical eyes… _her_ eyes.

She looked terrified; surely shocked by my sudden appearance when she had thought she had successfully left me behind. I couldn't help the anger that flared at the thought, and my mouth twitched downwards again as I thought of her abrupt departure. This had an enormous effect on her, despite the fact that the frown hadn't been meant directly for her; her mouth fell open in a gasp and she shot from her seat and disappeared, running for the back of the bus like a bat out of hell.

My frown merely deepened at that. Was she really so afraid of me that she felt she had to run away? What did she think I was here for, to ridicule her for our tryst? To chew her out for giving me the best night of my life? I could not understand her reasoning, and this merely served to further my anger.

I halted my progress at the reluctantly opened door of the bus, mounting the steps with a purposefully arch and aloof demeanor replacing my riled expression. The bus driver resembled a beet in a too tight uniform, his face so red and shriveled that I wondered at how much more blood he could accumulate in his head before he popped a vein. He started to open his mouth, intent to admonish me in a foul manner obvious, but I rudely interrupted him, reaching into my coat and retrieving the handy and completely superfluous badge that I carried with me, the circle of metal encased in black leather declaring my office and my importance.

If I was ever forced to present this, I got my way. Always.

I flashed the badge at him, keeping my distant manner about me. "I am sorry for the inconvenience, good sir, but you have aboard your vehicle a suspect in a detriment crime of high prominence to the NYPD. I must question her before she leaves my jurisdiction. Do you mind? It would be a big help if you would allow me passage, and it'll only take a few minutes," I informed him in a quiet, authoritive manner, and the man stared at me incomprehensibly for the length of a very long ten seconds before nodding hurriedly, gesturing back into the rear of the bus as a sign to feel free to enter.

He didn't need to tell me twice for me to sweep past him, turning the rest of the way into the narrow corridor between the seats. I had only to look to see where _she_ had disappeared to, her hands making frantic movements over the back window of the bus like she was trying to claw her way through the material to continue her flight.

The anger returned full force in that moment, the unfairness of her actions and the sheer annoyance of being forced to stoop to this level making me seethe in my rage. Was I angry with her? Not really, but that didn't stop me from glaring at the back of her head as I approached her slowly, my footsteps light and calculatingly unhurried.

Her frenzied movements halted the instant that she was able to hear my footsteps in the deafening quiet that surrounded us, and a mysterious tremor ran down her spine, her long, unbound pink hair wavering in the dim light of the morning. My eyes narrowed, my teeth clenching as my fury grew. Why did she tremble? Had I ever laid a hand on her to make her fear me so? Had my actions last night alienated her so tremendously? God, I couldn't bear not knowing _why_. The questions circulating in my head all seemed to start with that word…

Why, why, _why, why, __**why, why, WHY**_!

It was insufferable, and so my ire multiplied as I came to a halt inches from her back, looking down on the form of the woman I had been expecting to wake up next to mere hours ago, my breath unintentionally heavy. Her own breaths were shallow and quick, her stance tense and expecting of _something_. I wasn't sure what she thought I was going to do to her, but the thought that she might be thinking I was angry enough to harm her in any way made my rage wane, leaving me feeling empty and hopeless.

How had it come to this?

I was suddenly very aware of the fact that we weren't alone, and I turned slightly to glare at the three other occupants of the bus (all of whom were staring unabashedly), my shoe grating against the floor slightly as I did so. I saw her flinch slightly as I made the movement, and the momentous reaction drove any fight that I had left from me, my shoulders very nearly drooping. I had much that I had wanted to ask her, but at the moment, nothing came to mind but the beginning of each and every sentence. Since I was unable to find anything else to say, I merely forced the word to leave my lips, looking away from her as I did so.

"Why?"

Her entire frame froze up at the sound of my voice, or perhaps my question, before her head drooped in a similar movement as I had desired to make mere seconds before. A shuddering breath left her lips, a single, glistening tear dripping down her cheek where it was visible through the curtain of hair that veiled the rest of her face from me, and watching its descent reminded me inescapably of how long it had been since we had both been innocent and free, since we had both been truly happy.

I closed my eyes against the sight of the love of my entire life crying, trying to repress the memories of the time before everything had become so difficult, so goddamn intricate… and remembered anyway.

* * *

_And there you have it, the beginning of Itachi's side of the story! …I think that I failed miserably, but my opinion on the subject isn't what I rely on. I rely on yours, so let me know how I did and review! _

_So… yeah, after this I'm going to be taking a break from writing; about a week or so to rest my fingers from the enormous amount of writing that I've been doing lately. I've got two Kingdom Hearts games to finish, a book or two to read, and a couple of fan art pictures that require my attention. So ta until I return from my vacation!_


	5. Itachi: Before the Fall

_And so the people have spoken… XD as per request to my poll, this is the story that is in highest demand, and as such, I shall update this first. Actually, I think that this story is the most liked of all of my creations at this point. Hrm… I don't mind that. :D Anywho, thank you guys for the reviews and stuff, thanks for being patient with me while I be as lazy as I can be… a lot of thanks are in order. XD Rating for this one is definitely M; we shall once again be forced through angst, depression, a character death, and copious imbibing of alcoholic beverages, along with lecherous thoughts of varying degrees, a very slight amount of sexual content, and mature language. Flee if you are under the age of sixteen, my friends; I refuse to be blamed for the debauchery of the planet as a whole (I will take responsibility for it in part, however. XD)._

_Disclaimer: Ownership rights= Mitsuki Shizuka? Yes. Kenji and Roku? Yes. This plotline? Yes. Naruto? No. Not even in the slightest._

* * *

Itachi: Before the Fall

* * *

_I had much that I had wanted to ask her, but at the moment, nothing came to mind but the beginning of each and every sentence. Since I was unable to find anything else to say, I merely forced the word to leave my lips, looking away from her as I did so._

"_Why?"_

_Her entire frame froze up at the sound of my voice, or perhaps my question, before her head drooped in a similar movement as I had desired to make mere seconds before. A shuddering breath left her lips, a single, glistening tear dripping down her cheek where it was visible through the curtain of hair that veiled the rest of her face from me, and watching its descent reminded me inescapably of how long it had been since we had both been innocent and free, since we had both been truly happy._

_I closed my eyes against the sight of the love of my entire life crying, trying to repress the memories of the time before everything had become so difficult, so goddamn intricate… and remembered anyway._

*Two and a Half Years Before*

There are simple, yet multifarious rules that govern the lives of all creatures. Requirements that allow for life's continuance, keep the universe in balance, and put a halt to any attempts to circumvent the order of things. Laws set down from the beginning of time that are meant to prevent actions such as mine. Do not take what you do not own, do not touch that which is not yours, do not desire what belongs to someone other than yourself… easy enough rules to follow.

I cared little to nothing for nature's advices, however; I was too far gone to care that I was breaking every single one of them with just my thought processes.

I more than likely should have listened to my conscience when it told me that it was wrong to think what I was, even as I stood bearing witness to my last hope falling apart at my feet. I shouldn't have wanted to push aside the man whose day I was supposed to be honoring, just so I could take his place and revel in the happiness that I had desired every day of what seemed like an eternity. I should have been ashamed of the spiteful emotions that fulminated beneath my skin, each more nefarious than the last.

Bitterness, greed, ire, antipathy, pride, lust… _jealousy_…

Yes… jealousy. The most disgraceful and yet the strongest of my feelings this day. I had no right to my possessiveness, truthfully; the object of it had never been mine for me to feel this way. There was another that should have received the feeling in its place. There should have been no sensation of its caliber felt for it besides brotherly solicitousness.

Was that why every single one of my thoughts was tinged green with virulent envy?

I wanted very much to scoff at myself, disgusted and weary of my tireless and seemingly endless depravity, but could not as it would draw unnecessary attention to me and away from those who were the focus of all in the room. They were the reason that we were all here on this bright and sun swept Saturday afternoon, standing about in formal, uncomfortable clothes and wearing smiles that no one would ever be able to tell were false and strained.

I had no business with bringing ruin to a day that was meant for celebration and joy. It was not their fault that I was desperately fighting an internal battle that had never been meant to be fought. My struggle with myself was futile as it was; no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I wanted happiness for myself, the war I waged was a losing one, and it always had been.

Attachments held me back like unbreakable chains, the manacles of duty and honor and family ties stronger than the most resistant of metals and the hardest of stones. I should be a man and step down. I should turn my head to the side and admit my defeat, allow the victor to step up and claim his prize with nothing more than reluctant acceptance…

What I should do and what I did were entirely different matters, naturally.

The truth of the matter was, I could do nothing more than continue my fruitless battle in silence, unable to give any ground in either direction, as I looked stoically over the small church full of friends and family at this the wedding of my brother and the girl that I desperately wanted as my own, waiting impatiently for the appearance of the bride along with the rest of the whispering gathering.

If anyone had known that my impatience was based around all the wrong motives, I am sure I would have been alienated forever.

The piano music playing in the background swelled, signaling for the woman waiting behind the doors at the end of the room that she was to begin her journey down the aisle, and it was answered with her entrance, the folds of white material and gossamer fabric she wore out of place among the color and simultaneous bleakness of the crowd she slowly approached through.

One hand resting in the crook of the arm of one of her oldest friends (and most certainly the most annoying of them), the girl who had so effortlessly stolen my heart's eyes shone with bright happiness behind the veil draped across her face, her long pink tresses of hair unbound and flowing around her shoulders and back. The light of the sun shining through the stained glass windows high above us threw colorful shards of light across the skin of her cheeks and arms as she approached with excited and nervously measured steps…

Any who would contest Sakura's beauty would be more than a fool.

Finally reaching the last of the pews, her eyes unglued themselves from the man next to me and shot over to meet mine, a look of edgy expectance coloring her gaze, and my heartbeat quickened in response. I should not have been so affected by this; she was not considering what I wished of her to.

She would not suddenly be taken by a fit of before unexplored emotion and run away with me.

She was merely looking to someone who had been her friend every day since meeting her for approval, and since this was what she wanted, I would give it to her, despite desiring nothing more than to deny her so that I could tell her how I truly felt and take her as my own. So, in response, I nodded minutely and let my expression assume the most false and yet most used position that I had in my arsenal: a half-smile.

She was pleased by this, chest rising as her bravery swelled, and when her eyes moved back over to my brother as he stepped down to take her hand from their mutual best friend's, I had to fight to keep from scowling in petulance. I had not been satisfied with the few seconds that I had held her attention, and had felt a surge of resentment the instant her brilliant green eyes had left my own unremarkable grey.

I managed to preserve my façade despite my bitterness, however, and looked on with unrighteous loathing as the two lovers ascended the steps to the altar together, eyes only for each other now.

I could honestly say that standing here, being best man for someone who I resented for no good reason, was the hardest thing that I have ever been forced to endure.

This was not because of the overflow of emotions that I felt as the minister began the joining of the two young people beside me. I was far too used to feeling this way to be affected so exponentially. It was not even the fact that I was completely and totally helpless in this situation, powerless to do anything to stop something that I had no desire to see happen. No, what was driving me to new levels of sentiment was far simpler and yet far more dangerous: Sakura kept looking over at me during the ceremony.

If I had dared to meet her gaze as she went through the process of marrying my brother, I am sure I would have done the unforgivable and interrupted the wedding.

As it was, I merely pretended interest in the family I had created with a woman I no longer desired, gaze flickering over my sons and wife repeatedly. I could understand how difficult it was for the four month old child my spouse held to sit still and be quiet for so long, but was unsurprised to discover my eldest child to be content with his position.

Kenji was very mature for his age, already finished with kindergarten and readying to enter grade school despite only being four years of age (though nearly five), and had no problem understanding when situations called for silence and respectful stillness.

I wish I could have said the same of his mother; Alora wasn't even paying attention to the ceremony, filing her nails and texting on her cell phone instead.

I repressed the surge of annoyed distaste that I felt for such rudeness, grateful for Sakura's gaze leaving me again so that I could turn back to watching the wedding, listening with barely concealed discontent to her vows.

My general distaste for my wife may seem strange; do not misunderstand my disinterest. There was a time that I had loved the woman sitting in the pews facing me; I knew this without a doubt. My hand would not have been moved in asking Alora to marry me if I had not been sure of my devotion.

The short year that we had spent dating had been far from perfect, with how difficult she had been to please with her seemingly endless tastes for the finer things in life, but I had felt differently about her than I had with any other woman before.

I had acknowledged this mysterious feeling as the much sought after emotion love, done all that I could to ensure that it would not slip from my grasp, and married her as soon as I had dragged a confession of the same sentiment from her.

And I had been happy, for a time. We lived a privileged and easy life, content with the seemingly perfect relationship we had developed: I worked hard, striving to bring home as much sustenance as I could to please her, and in return she would keep house and wait patiently for my return from work every day, greeting me with a kiss on the cheek when I did finally come home. It was a peaceful existence, with no clashes of wills and little excitement, and I didn't mind that in the least.

I wish that I had known that upset would come in the form of a sixteen year old girl.

A year and two months into my tranquil and relaxed marriage with Alora, Sasuke came to me one evening with such excitement in his eyes that I had to inquire as to his happiness.

As my younger brother and almost constant childhood shadow, we were closer than most siblings were because of the age difference between us; seven years was a long distance, for most children's spacing, and often resulted in the two being unable to bond properly. This was not so for us; I had, upon Sasuke's birth, immediately taken him under my wing, and had gained his immediate and all-encompassing adoration for, seemingly, the rest of his life.

As such, it was an easy matter to see that he was happier than he ever had been about _something_, and I had to know what.

His answer of gaining a new relationship confused me, however. I knew of Sasuke's penchant for being more lascivious and licentious than I deemed entirely proper, but he was a man in his own right, and I had no right to interfere in his efforts to seek pleasure, and said nothing about his habits. Thus, him announcing the latest in his conquests seemed superfluous and unnecessary to me.

He immediately corrected my line of thinking, however, by claiming that this girl was different. That she made him feel like he had never felt before, and he hadn't even slept with her yet.

Him coming to me was made clear when he asked if it would be alright to bring her over for dinner on a night close to that one, so that I could see her for myself and tell him if he should do the unthinkable and pursue a very serious relationship with this girl.

I immediately agreed. Why shouldn't I have? My brother wanted help in deciding if this girl was someone worth going into the long haul with, and I had no problem with helping him. I was ecstatic that he had seemingly found love as it was. It was good to see him so cheerful, so enthusiastic…

I wish, now, that I had declined.

The instant that I saw the girl stubbornly refusing to hold my brother's hand, I knew something was amiss. It had nothing to do with the shock of pink hair gracing her head, nor for the fact that she seemed to have absolutely no interest in getting any closer to Sasuke than the few inches that he forced on her in the first place.

This, I assumed, simply had something to do with her having unique and strange tastes and my brother and she having a disagreement before coming to my door. No, what immediately caught my attention was exactly that; she caught, and held, my attention.

I cannot begin to describe why this was. Sakura Haruno was small, petite in the extreme; barely even becoming a woman, truly. Her voice was muted and polite, her eyes barely lifting away from her knees the entire evening with her apparent shyness. Her clothes hinted at a meager background, indicating that her parents were either poor or didn't care enough to buy her good clothing, and her lack of makeup did little to accent her natural features.

All fairly normal things, though certainly out of place from the usual harlots that my brother took such interest in, and I could find nothing extraordinary about her to comment on.

Why, then, could I not tear my eyes away from her for a single moment?

It was not lust that drove my curiosity, I am sure. I felt nothing but an insatiable interest in her that night, questioning and conversing with her far more deeply than I had intended to when initially planning for tonight. There was a certain… kinship that I felt with her, despite being obviously and discernibly unlike.

Every question that I asked was met with an answer so intriguing to my mind, so unbelievably unique in honesty, that I couldn't help asking another in reciprocation, and over the course of the evening, I, for some reason, found myself sitting forward in rapt and focused attention while listening to her speak, no thoughts for anyone else in the room but her.

I felt no shame in monopolizing her attentions, since this had been Sasuke's request, but the ache of loss that I felt as they left stunned me. There was so much yet that I had to learn from this intelligent and intriguing girl child, and for some reason, I had not had enough.

I wanted her to return so that we could sit together and talk about anything, everything, and without realizing it, made a promise to myself that I _would_ see her again.

The reason behind my complete and total approval of my brother's new girlfriend might have been selfish, but since he was as happy with the relationship as I was that he planned on continuing it, I felt no embarrassment over my desire to further delve into the girl's mind.

I realize now that it was not in my best interests to be so absorbed with her. I should have known better than to talk with her so often about so many subjects that we soon became likened to the best of friends, always sharing with each other and becoming so close that even my wife commented on our familiarity.

I should have seen that it would lead to so much more than misplaced and unhealthy awareness, because all too soon, I began to see things that I shouldn't have.

I saw it when Sakura finally began to give into my brother's charms, the look in her eyes softer and acquiescing when she spoke of him. I could almost literally feel her sadness in my own heart when she revealed that she was an orphan, despite never outwardly showing that she was unhappy about it, and I rejoiced with her when she received news that she was receiving a national award for her writing prowess, the true level of her happiness evident in the way that she couldn't seem to sit still. I could tell the instant that she came into my sight what emotions she was feeling, whether she was excited, angry, or even confused by something.

My ability to learn these changes so easily could be attributed to having watched her too closely, perhaps; while I was more than proficient at knowing and interpreting body language due to my profession (at the time, I had been a SWAT team lieutenant, specializing in interrogation and civil protection), I had inspected the curve of her brow and the dips at the corners of her lips far too often to not know the positions they assumed. I had too thoroughly gauged the different lights in her eyes and the varying tilts of her head to be blind to any changes in them.

From knowing what hairstyle she wore depending on how she felt in the morning to being aware of exactly how tightly she clenched her lithe fingers in the fluctuating degrees of her annoyance, I had memorized her from top to bottom almost effortlessly, and still it was not enough.

My relationship with her was becoming close to that of an obsession before I fully realized how far down the wrong path my curiosity had taken me.

Differing from most males in an extreme, sex was, to me, not something that dwelled on my mind constantly. I had no time in my day to be distracted by something like lewd fantasies when I had important work to do, but that was not to say that I did not enjoy the act as much as the next person. My wife and I had a healthy and well-rounded sex life, indulging in intercourse when the mood took us, and the night that I came to my realization was such a one.

I have little shame in admitting that I am well practiced in the arts of pleasing a woman, and I know how to use my body well in such efforts, so it was no surprise to me that the woman lying beneath me reached her peak more than once while I labored diligently to reach my own. I was, however, finding it difficult to find my ending, and I could tell that Alora was growing impatient with me.

As such, I allowed my mind to wander to anything that I could think of that would force me into an orgasm. The fantasy that my imagination settled on, though, was something that I had not even realized I was capable of picturing.

My brother's teenage girlfriend taking the place of my wife in my mind's eye was a sin more terrible than any I could think of.

The instant that I thought of such a solecism, seeing pink hair spread over my pillow instead of brown and imagining looking into wide, green eyes instead of suddenly seemingly colorless blue, my breath and seed left me far more quickly than they ever had before, my climax one of such strength that I could barely hold myself up following it.

My wife made a snarky comment on it before dropping off to sleep curled at my side, but I was incapable of anything besides my shocked perusal of the ceiling, disgusted with myself and resolutely determined to never think of such a thing again.

I would not allow myself to descend to a level as depraved as thinking so basely of a girl besides my wife, _especially_ that one, and with that in mind, I let the incident pass easily to the back of my mind.

I wish it had been so easy to dismiss in reality, because after that, I truly began to see where I had gone wrong.

My attentions to the girl suddenly became strained and difficult, concern for my line of thought making me shy away from the root of the problem, though it was no fault of her own that I had such feelings. I could not push her away completely, of course; the friendship we had formed was one of such closeness that I could not bear being without my confidant, no matter what I thought about her in times that I should only be thinking of my wife. I could, however, make myself look away when I caught myself observing her too closely.

I would not have bothered if my glances at her had been innocent and platonic… but they were no longer such.

Instead of focusing on the way that her eyes brightened when she smiled, my gaze was caught to the way her fair, pink lips moved with the motion, mind considering the softness of such obviously pliable skin.

Instead of watching the way her happiness made her glow when she danced around my kitchen by herself, glorying in whatever it was that she was celebrating, I scrutinized the way her steadily more womanly curved body twisted under the soft incandescence of the false lights she twirled beneath, pleased by the play of muscle in her legs and captivated by the line of her flat stomach.

The way that she walked, with such confidence and strength, used to impress and mystify me; now it was all I could do to keep from licking my lips as the sway of her hips held my lecherous attentions.

The only way to preserve my sanity was to look away... I surely would have lost myself if I had allowed such behavior to continue unchecked.

This was how I convinced myself, for a few short months, that I could overcome this morbid obsession and let it pass into the shadows unexplored. I forced myself to think of other things when I found myself wondering what Sakura was doing, keeping myself busy with work and showering my wife with attention to distract myself from the reminders of Sakura that I had all through my day.

I did all that I could to ignore the steadily accelerating and mind bendingly strong lust that I felt whenever I was in her presence, and it seemed, for a time, that I could manage to succeed in my attempts. It became easier to deal with, while I was conning myself more deeply than I could have known… it was not meant to last, however, because all too soon my peace truly came to an end.

I could not, no matter how hard I tried, push aside the emotion that I felt on what I consider one of the worst days of my life. I could honestly say that it was the first time I had ever felt such strong, virulent sensations; I was not one to be taken by fits of passion.

The instant that I saw the awareness of sexual understanding in Sakura's eyes, however, drove me into an invidious rage.

I had known for the better part of half a year that the young, pink haired beauty was a virgin. Her innocence was too obvious, her embarrassment over some of the things Sasuke insinuated too telling for her to be anything but. I had taken personal pride in this part of her, proud that she had lasted in a relationship with my playboy of a brother so long and that she obviously intended to continue doing so.

I had not been aware of the fact that I had desired her to stay this way because I thought of such a thing as mine, but when she was sitting before me, blushingly trying to hide the love bite low on the skin of her neck and looking at me with that last ounce of purity gone in her eyes, I felt so bitter, so slighted, so _angry_, that I wanted very much to reprimand her for sleeping with Sasuke.

How could she have not known that I was the one that had deserved to have such a special experience with her, I had thought. How could she have given herself away to another when _I_ was the one that knew her better than anyone else?

I felt betrayed; resentful and forgotten like some sort of trash thrown to the side as soon as it is used. I knew that I had no right to my feelings; of course I did. I knew better than anyone that her innocence had belonged to anyone she had decided to give it to, and my brother had worked hard and long to receive such a gift from the girl that he was steadily falling more in love with by the day. I knew this, I could understand… but I could not accept it.

No amount of culpability could make me realize, in that moment, that these feelings would only make things worse, and that was the day that I committed my second act of treasonous disloyalty… I went to my wife, in my jealous ire, and used her body as an outlet to my emotions. I did not let her leave our bed for that entire day and night, taking her again and again in effigy of the girl who had unknowingly spurned me no matter what protests Alora made.

I was not cruel, naturally; I made sure she enjoyed it, ensured that she screamed my name and writhed beneath my touch in pleasure. This exercise was, however, not meant for her. This was the only way I could regain my control, taking out my anger and hostility through the most carnal and base of all acts.

I was desperate to become as I normally was, to make the vicious resentment and umbrage that was simmering in the back of my mind dissipate no matter the cost, nor what I had to think of as I recklessly drove the woman beneath me to her limits and past them.

The result was not as calming as I had thought it would be, unfortunately, merely leaving me tired, sore, and still stewing in my vehemence, but the punishment I received for my day of attempted release was fitting to the crime I committed.

The guilt that racked me every day of the nine months following my indiscretion was accepted, welcomed even, because not only had this happened for all the wrong reasons and I had felt no change in my feelings for the girl who had made it all happen… I now had another tie that could not be broken holding me back.

The day that I had discovered the loss of Sakura's virginity had ended in the creation of my firstborn son.

This should have been enough to make me stop. Knowing that I had produced a child with a woman while pretending that she was someone else should have driven me to my knees in humbling penance, made me turn my attentions away from a girl that would never be mine and to the woman that already was, the female carrying my child… but it did not.

No matter how much I knew the reason behind the small hand that clutched at my fingers when presented with them, no matter how often or how hard I razed my mind with the full brunt of my guilt and my depravity, each and every single time I saw the now eighteen year old girl my attempts to stay a faithful and grounded husband evaporated, replaced by the feeling of her arms as she hugged me and the sound of her laughter as she played with the child that had been created because of her, but not through her.

How often I wished such a thing to be true, I do not know: it may have been every time I saw her… and it may have been twice as many.

Sometimes I wondered if she knew, as she sat with me, talking and laughing and sharing her light with my sick and perverse soul. She can't have been blind to the way that I sat too close to her, to the way that she held my complete attention. I usually turned such thoughts aside, however, knowing that if she had known the length and breadth of my transgressions, she would have approached me about it.

She would not have let me live through such pain if there had been a way to stop it; she was a truly caring person, honest in her sincerity and forever giving. And she cared about me. I knew this better than I should have, with how obsessive I was over the time she made sure to spend with me. If I had allowed her to see how much I was hurt every time she walked away, if I had told her where my heart truly lay…

I wasn't entirely sure she would turn me away, even with the complexity of our situation.

As it was, none of my secret longings or desperate fantasies were ever made known to her despite the ever declining status of my morality. I was not an evil man, after all… my brother deserved his happiness with the girl he had captured the heart of, and with all of the strength I could muster, I forced myself to sit back and watch their relationship unfold as mine fell in pieces around my feet.

Such a thing could not be helped; were I to have continued in my behavior, I would have committed many unthinkable sins while I pretended my marriage was to one I did not have any right to even think of. I would not allow it to go any farther down that path than it already was, so I took all the measures that I could to stop it.

I stopped having sex with my wife. I shunned the child that had come from our union, despite the boy having no fault in the situation itself. I spent ten to eighteen hours at the police headquarters every day of the week, in addition accepting the promotion to SWAT Team Commander and taking a second calling as Department Chief. I spent every spare second that I had trying to occupy myself so I would have no time to even think about the wrong things, and time passed as it tends to do.

Two years crawled by, each harder to endure than the last, and my son Kenji started walking and talking, not only catching my attention with how quickly he seemed to progress in his constructive habits but engaging in activities I was not sure a boy his age was supposed to be able to do; it was quickly made obvious to me that he was an exceptionally brilliant child when I came home from work one day and he started reading the newspaper over my shoulder. Intelligence shone from his eyes in everything he did, his speech already mirroring my own proper format and his actions always precise and calculated.

I spent little time at home, as I said, but the knowledge that I had a son so much like myself made me reach out to the boy despite my reluctance due to the way he had been conceived, taking time out of my day to make sure that he had everything that he wanted from me and that he received all that he desired. It astonished me that he was so easily pleased, truly; all he ever seemed to want were books.

Even at two years of age he was reading, and at several levels higher than expected of him as well; it was not often that I came home and found him doing something besides hiding in some corner of the penthouse, nose stuck deep in the pages of yet another storybook. His obsession with the written word made me take an even more ingrained liking to him...

He reminded me of another whose calling in the world was dedicated to prose and writ.

It was not hard to find myself loving the object of my biggest mistake after this realization, and Kenji soon became my pride and joy in the loveless marriage I found myself stuck in (I truly loved Alora, and I knew it, but my desire for and liking of her had waned considerably).

He never failed to astonish me with his intelligence and his strong character, conversation with the boy was actually interesting, due to his willingness to learn anything that I had to teach him, and the fact that he loved his "Aunt Sakura", in my personal opinion, more than his own mother endeared him to me even further.

It was not that I particularly disliked Alora; do not get me wrong. She was an amazing and gorgeous woman… it was an easy matter to see why I had been attracted to her. But at some point during the escalation of my depraved obsession with my brother's girlfriend, I had begun to compare the two women, and found myself disgusted by the differences I saw.

There could be no denying Alora's beauty. Her intelligence was uncanny, and her wit was sharp. She was regal, elegant, sophisticated… but self-centered. Her selfishness shone from her every action, once I had a point of comparison to hold her against, and she had not an ounce of kindness or understanding in her heart.

She cared little for anything outside her own sphere of being, leaving Kenji with various babysitters during the day while she went off to only god knows where, spending money on things she would use once and then toss aside. Her coldness and insincerity made me wish, at times, that I could allow myself to be as callous as she and tell her exactly what I had to think of while having sex with her so that I would be able to climax at all, but I restrained myself.

I would not sink to her level and dirty my hands so heartlessly.

Opposite the cold-blooded harridan that I found myself tied to inescapably sat Sakura, a porcelain goddess whose heart was more pure than the most refined of all gold. There were faults in her, of course… Her temper was fiery at best, tempestuous at worst, and she was not afraid to unleash it and all its wonders on me despite the obvious respect she held for me, making her opinion known and expecting me to understand and accept it. She was absurdly bold, alarmingly emotional, and at times downright infuriating… but she more than made up for it with everything else in her being.

There was never a time that she didn't stop to donate money or buy a homeless vagrant food, no matter how close to empty her wallet was. She was fearless in the face of danger, strong and courageous when forced to deal with hardships, and kind in every extreme. Her beauty was of the sort that women everywhere wished for and men everywhere searched to find, her aging having formed her into a girl that no longer required makeup or clothes fitted to her body to make her look more exquisite than the most radiant of diamonds.

Her knowledge of the written word and love of its entirety made talking with her more interesting than anything else I can describe, and were anyone to ever accuse the girl of being clumsy and inelegant, she would more than likely agree wholeheartedly, because she had no desire to be anything different. Her love for my son overflowed with her every gesture; she was never too busy to take care of Kenji whenever I had run out of others to turn to and could not watch him myself, and the stories of mystical lands and fairytale creatures he returned to me with showed that she had every desire to share all of herself that she could with the boy.

It felt wrong, somewhere inside, that I should have to watch such activities from the sidelines. Sakura was caring for my son more thoroughly than his own mother was, and I had to turn a blind eye and continue on with my work. I could not even allow thoughts of how different things would have been if I had, perhaps, met her in a different way, in a different setting; images of the happiness we could have shared together would surely have driven me off of the last solid patch of faithful humanity that I had left in me.

I had to deny these thoughts, since I could not act upon them… but I could not disregard the depth of my feelings for the girl. It had taken a long time, with how much and how often I tried to deny it, for me to realize that my friendship with Sakura was so much more than just that… that the lust I felt burning in my veins more heatedly than any fire was _nothing_ to what I could truly feel for the girl…

I had, inexplicably and undeniably, fallen in love with her.

I did not find this as startling as I could, and probably should have; after thinking about it, I came to the conclusion that my obsession with her could not have ended up any differently. It was only natural that I found myself as heartsick and desperate as a teenage fangirl. What _did_ surprise me was that the emotion that I felt for Sakura dwarfed what I had ever felt for Alora by exponents.

The difference was such that it hurt to even consider it.

In any case, time did as it should, and while I watched my son grow and become more intelligent every passing day and turned my gaze to the side to avoid confronting my wife about the fact that I no longer wished to be married to her, my bitterness for my hopeless and ever declining state merely steepened as the object of my obsession moved forward with her life, graduating from high school, obtaining a job at the local hospital, and moving into my brother's apartment with him.

It depressed me, unrighteously, that they could be so happy while I labored every day to keep up the pretense of a good marriage for all the world but knew, deep inside, exactly how much of a lost cause it truly was. Another year passed, the gaining of money and the pride I felt for my son the only things keeping me from driving my car off of a cliff, and too soon, though I had known that it was inevitable…

Sasuke came to me and told me that he planned to ask Sakura to marry him.

I cannot express how close I came to telling him not to. My resentment and jealousy were all encompassing in their intensity, turning my eyesight red with my passionate state and very nearly making me lash out in protective ire. It was all I could do to speak with a controlled tone, much less congratulate my brother on his decision and wish him and Sakura luck as I should, but somehow, I managed.

I was able to communicate the necessary felicitations, give my false and grating approval of his choice, and wave him away from my doorstep with a half-smile before collapsing in on myself in confused and hopelessly lost despair, mind whirling and fingers dug into my hair while I sat hunched over on one of the chairs in my library at home.

For the first time that I could remember, I did not know what I should do. I knew what I _wanted_ to do… I wanted to go to Sakura, profess my love for every fiber of her being, and destroy my brother's trust in her by making love to her on the spot. I knew what propriety demanded of me… I was to give up my fantasies and misplaced infatuation and let the winner of this twisted, one-sided game step up and claim victory.

But the shock; the sheer, utter disbelief that racked my body with loss and longing took my breath away and stole any and all coherent thought. My brain was reduced to a mass of useless nerve endings, no feelings further than complete misery and rejection and indignity radiating through my war-torn body.

I had no idea where to turn, what to do, how to cope with my distress… and as such, degraded myself to turning to the comforts of manmade and stupefying oblivion, drinking any and all alcohol that my wife had lying around the kitchen.

It was more than enough to release me from my blundering and clueless anguish, though I had to demolish an entire bottle of whiskey and two of red wine before I was satisfactorily inebriated.

It was not often that I turned to the bottle in more than an attempt to spend time with the only friend that remained from my adolescence; Kisame Hoshigaki has the habit of bringing about the worst headaches I've ever had, and alcohol is a handy way to stave them off and still want to be in his presence.

I have wished more than once that I could say that the strong drink had the ability to completely steal away all memory and previous emotion from me like it did for some people… what I wouldn't give for a release from such.

However, it did allow me to loosen up and "get that filing cabinet out of my ass", as Kisame is fond of telling me, and I find this to be true; it is much easier to have fun while intoxicated, as most of my duty bound inhibitions are forcibly shoved to the side by the aromatic fumes of heavy liquor.

Unfortunately, I did not have my friend with me the night that I was attempting to drown my misery to distract me from the painful and depressing thoughts whirling through my mind, and when I had consumed about as much alcohol as I could without poisoning myself, I found myself wondering why I was so alone and despondent when Sakura was so happy with her life apart from me.

Didn't I have a right to enjoy my existence as well? Why had I been overlooked by the delicate flower in favor of my younger, less gifted brother? It was not as though I was an unattractive man; I knew that I had much that women desired in a male partner in the departments of stature, looks, and style. I was strong, possessed a great fortune, had more than enough wit and intelligence to match hers… I could think of no reason besides trivial nonsense, like my brother and my wife, that had reason to separate us.

The matter of our differing ages mattered little to none; she was no longer a teenager, for me to fear being judged as a pedophile. The nine years between the twenty year old and I were not insurmountable… greater time spans had been appropriated with enormous success. I could support her and give her everything that she ever wanted, even though I knew better than most that she never asked or wanted for much.

I could love her more passionately and lastingly than even I could say; no woman in the world would ever feel more cherished and beloved than she. She had _everything_ to gain, the world to ransom, my heart to control with the barest twitch of her little finger…

Why, then, was she in the arms of my brother this night, blind to my agony and content to be the fiancée of one other than myself?

The bitter resentment I felt on this subject only grew the longer I sat contemplating it, so after a few aimless hours spent destroying the couch pillow I held between my hands, I gave up on trying to feel better and went to bed, walking with difficulty up the stairs to my bedroom and stumbling more than I liked as I tried to disrobe in preparation for sleeping.

This night, however, was very different from those of the past few years; as soon as I climbed into bed, I scooted over to my wife's side and held her close to me, thereafter proceeding to make the reluctantly roused woman aware of the fact that I wished to reacquaint myself with her body.

I do not know why… perhaps I was seeking a way to forget the pain resounding in my heart. Maybe I was truly just a man, and had spent far too long in my celibate refusal of sexual release. It was possible that I was, once again, replacing her with the one that I truly desired to have in bed with me.

Nevertheless, the deed was done, and with its finishing I fell into a drunken and appeased slumber, thinking of nothing but the cloud of pink I could see on the backs of my eyelids and the warmth of the body curled into my side.

I should have expected the cruel irony that came from my inebriated attempt at moving past my pain… it should have been almost expected that another bond be formed through my own foolishness. It seemed the only way that the heavens could communicate their hate for me; god must truly despise me, with how I was presented with such temptation and then kept from it time and time again with ever increasing loyalties.

What the deity felt for me, however, didn't change the fact that, in my debauchery, I had once again impregnated my wife.

After the discovery of Alora's second pregnancy, I thought long and hard about what should be done about my obvious and ever increasing fixation and the ineffectiveness of my endeavors to circumvent it. Everything that I had done, from trying to forget to attempting to ignore my situation, had merely led to disaster.

Nothing I had tried to do, in an effort to be a good and fair man, had turned out right… so perhaps it was time to put aside pretending to be something that I wasn't.

I was no longer the upright individual that I had once been, content with thinking of only one woman at a time and never desiring what was not mine. I was a wreck of my former self… and I would have to embrace that. I would let myself obsess over what I wanted. I would free myself from the constraints of proper thoughts and allow my mind to wander over the joys that consisted of my closest friend, my greatest flaw… and so far, it had worked.

I no longer had any real negative feelings besides jealousy and slight amounts of guilt, I spent all the time that I could, considering my busy schedule, with my two sons (my youngest, Roku, was obviously not going to be as quick and gifted in his development as his older brother, but this did not make me love him any less; he had a certain irresistible charm to him, a glow of undisturbed happiness in his eyes, that I could not deny and loved to have directed at me), and I was more than free to glory in the attentions that Sakura could spare for me in her own busy schedule.

The only one who was left out was Alora, but as far as I could tell, she did not mind. She never said anything, she never acted like she cared; as a matter of fact, she rarely spoke with me further than informing me of her and our children's day and asking for permission to buy something… this merely reinforced my considerations of the fact that she, potentially, knew of my obsession.

It must not be difficult to see, with how different I had become after meeting the girl. She must have noticed that our relationship became strained after Sakura being introduced… she must have seen how interested I was in the girl despite her being only a child. I would not be surprised if she had known before even I had; she was not as ill-advised or foolishly blind as I was…

I might have felt bad about the potential of this deliberation being true if there were any shame greater than the one I was constantly subjugated by.

The sudden realization that the ceremony that I was supposed to be paying attention to was drawing to a close drew me from my reminiscence, and I regained my composure just in time to hear the priest give me my last opportunity to stop this union.

"…and if there are any here that objects to the joining of these two young people, speak now or forever hold your peace."

The desire to speak out, to loudly proclaim how desperately I objected to it and then take what I wanted most, was heart wrenchingly strong. But the gold ring wrapped around my left ring finger suddenly felt like a dead weight, forcing me to acknowledge it and realize that I could say nothing. I had made a promise to the woman down in the pews, many years ago… as long as we both shall live, I would be true.

No matter my feelings, I _never_ broke my promises.

Besides, this day was not about _my_ feelings, or _my_ decisions, or _my_ heartbreak. I was already married, I had children, and I had no right to interrupt. As such, I clenched my fists as tightly as I could without drawing attention, my fingernails biting into my palms and giving me clarity through pain, but I still had to grit my teeth, as imperceptibly as possible, to keep from blurting the two earthshattering words out.

_I object… I object…_

There was a moment of silence, nearly too long for me to be able to handle, before the priest nodded and continued, declaring Sasuke and Sakura to be man and wife and that my brother could now kiss his bride, the woman now officially known as Mrs. Sakura Uchiha.

She wore the surname well in my opinion, despite being tied to the wrong brother.

The words had barely left his lips before Sakura sprang into Sasuke's arms with a quiet squeal of happiness, allowing the proudly grinning man to dip her down and kiss her with all his might. I looked away from the spectacle and over the oohing and aweing crowd, repressing my distaste over their lip lock by feigning interest in the opening doors at the far end of the church, bright sunlight permeating the already well lit room and bringing with it a slew of camera wielding men and a crew of giggling and simpering women.

I was able to return my attention to the newlyweds again when they had finally broken apart from their kiss, but almost immediately looked away again due to necessity: Sakura's cheeks were a dusky pink only shades lighter than her hair, and the thought of how delectable she would look wearing only that color on her skin was nearly my undoing.

The reception following a long and painstaking series of photo taking opportunities was by far much longer than necessary; perhaps it wasn't as long as I had thought it was, truly, but my brother and Sakura very obviously wishing for its ending more desperately than I did only made it worse.

I did not want to see pure, blatant longing shining in Sakura's gaze if the emerald, limpid pools were not directed at me… I had no wish to know she was desiring the man that kept leaning over to whisper in her ear and bravely running his hand up her leg beneath the table.

Unfortunately, her lust was more than evident to me, with how well I had learned her body language and how hard it was for her to hide her blushing cheeks while seated almost directly beside me, and as such, there was no relief from my torture. I couldn't help what I did to divert my anger over her misdirected regard, especially since I would have to sit here beside them for another few hours…

I assumed the most teasing and antagonistic persona that I could muster and made sure that she knew I was well aware of her aroused state.

I had perfected the lies that my emotions told flawlessly, practicing over and over again so I would never reveal my greatest weakness. My scowls and grimaces were hidden by half smiles, my anger and jealousy covered by playful mocking and amusement.

They were entirely effective and never failed to deceive, and though it hurt to have to hide things from the people who I should have been able to share my whole self with…

I could not allow them to know how low I had sunk.

As it was, I spent the majority of the afternoon and evening ragging on Sakura endlessly, since Sasuke never stopped making his line of thought clear to her, and the enraged blushes and profane commands to stop that I dragged from her merely made my grins wider and my playfulness swell.

There was no feeling like successfully teasing her; she responded so readily and so explicitly that I could not help it, not to mention that her retorts quickly made me forget why I was so angry in the first place. All there was were me and her, caught in web of infinite banter, and that was just how I liked it.

A world with only us present would be more than a dream come true.

At one point my antagonism became too much for her pride, however; I had spent the past few minutes conversing with my brother about absolutely nothing but pretended to be discussing something sex related while throwing glances at her the entire time, and it was, at this point, that she turned to my wife and told on me.

I knew better than to think that Alora would tell me off for poking fun at my friend (she didn't care enough to be interested in what I was doing), but her bored request to stop my teasing so that Sakura wouldn't bother her again made my ire return, gratefully directed in another direction, and I desisted to allow myself to stew over how selfish and degrading the woman I called my wife was being.

Thankfully, it was not long after this occurrence that the two newlyweds began the long process of leaving the reception, saying goodbye and shaking hands and thanking everyone that came to bid them farewell before escaping into the backseat of my car, all three of us heading to the airport where they would be leaving on their honeymoon to Paris, France, a courtesy extended by me as a second gift to them for their wedding (the first had yet to be unwrapped, though not in a literal sense; the house I had purchased for them was a little too big for the local gift wrapper to handle).

Upon arriving I received a manly hug from my brother, his reminders of how grateful he was for everything I had done for them making my resentment for his choosing of women disappear, forcing me to remember that this was my brother and that I loved him quickly enough that I could return the hug with heartfelt sincerity.

I congratulated him on growing to be such a good man before turning to my new sister in law, barely putting my arms out in time to catch her bone crushing hug. Her whispers of thanks and gratitude pierced me to my soul, and I could barely respond clearly while trying to beat back the need to hug her as tightly as I could and never let her go.

I waved them off as they went through airplane security, watching as they walked away hand in hand after being searched, and then finally, finally let my smile drop away, turning and trudging back to my car with my hands deep in my pockets and a discontented scowl gracing my lips. It seemed unduly unfair that I had been left so far behind when I was the most successful and hardest working of the two of us, my brother and me.

I should have gotten the perfect angel that Sasuke now owned, not only body and soul, but in a legal sense as well. I should have been allowed the happiness that he possessed, the future that he had ahead of him. Where had I gone wrong to have come so far in life and to have gained so much, but be left with _nothing_ in terms of what really mattered?

I did not know, but I had a sinking feeling somewhere near my heart that any hope I had had for true happiness had died the moment I promised myself to the wrong woman.

* * *

"Itachi Uchiha, what the _hell_ are you still doing here?"

My gaze snapped up from where it had been focused on my computer screen in the near darkness of my office, looking over the rim of the reading glasses that were quickly becoming necessary with my waning eyesight before snatching them from my face and standing quickly, coming to attention and giving a respectful salute to the man reclining on the edge of the entrance to my office.

"Superintendent General. I hadn't been aware that you were still here," I said stiffly, not relaxing from my rigid position when the salute was returned, and the man who had taught me all that I knew about law enforcement scoffed, strolling into my office with his hands in his pockets and tossing his shaggy red hair back from his eyes, the iconic piercings studding the skin of his face and ears glinting in the light coming from my desk lamp.

"I wasn't, a few minutes ago; I had been enjoying the evening at home, but I discovered that I forgot my birthday gift to my wife in my desk and had to return. You know how impatient Konan can be," Nagato stated with a shrug, and I nodded in reciprocation, hands tight by my sides.

The darkness of the long fallen night clung to the shades of the window behind me in an almost lifelike way, no stars making their way through the cloaking blackness and simultaneous bright lights of the Big Apple; the lively city was in its prime, businesses meant only for those lured by the call of the night open and beckoning to those foolish enough to enter, and secrets were muttered and committed in shadowed alleyways without reproach or conscience.

It was nearly midnight, the clock on the wall across from me told me, and the displeasure radiating from my superior officer's form told me that, in his books, I should not have dared to stay so late. But I couldn't help it; working until ungodly hours had become a habit of mine. It wasn't as though I had a lot of work to do…

I just had no desire to return to my home and have nothing but the realization of what I could have had.

Blue eyes looked over me calculatingly as I stood waiting for my teacher's judgment, and Nagato sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "We've talked about this before, Itachi. I know that you have a lot of things on your mind, and none of them are pleasant. I know that working calms you and keeps you focused and centered… but you're going to kill yourself if you keep doing this," he said, concern emanating from his voice and eyes sincerely, and I stiffened before breaking from his gaze, shame making my eyes drop to the floor.

"I apologize, sir. I just don't know how else to deal with it," I muttered, and an understanding huff came from the man across from me. I knew that I had no reason to expound on my vague answer, the reason for the long hours I worked, or for the reason for my steadily continuing depression over the years…

He already knew.

"That's right… they got married three days ago," he mused, coming over to sit on the edge of my desk, and I nodded before returning to my seat, slumping and rubbing at my eyes with the back of my hand. It had not been long, after meeting Sakura, that Nagato had begun to become curious about my mood change.

He told me himself that he had never seen me so expressive, and since my obsession with the girl had not climbed too far yet, I told him of her and my interest regarding her, and had continued to do so all the way through my steepening fixation. It was good, to have one person that I could tell about how far I had fallen and not fear being reprimanded for it… I am sure that I would have gone insane if I had been forced to keep all of my turmoil inside.

"You obviously aren't holding up too well. You haven't worked any less than fifteen hours a day since they left on their honeymoon," he observed, picking up the nameplate announcing my name and office and examining it, and I stared past him into space, folding my hands together. He spoke completely truthfully; I was not doing well. I wish that I could have said it was only because I missed my closest friend… I did.

We had not gone this long without speaking in many years.

Naturally, though, my despondency had much more rotten and aberrant roots; I literally despised knowing what my brother and Sakura were currently engaged in, happier in and of themselves than my twisted mind could bear. I was long past the point of being guilty over my thoughts; there was no point in berating myself over wordless fantasies and actionless musing. As such, I had no shame in cursing the two newlywed's happiness.

They had a lot of nerve, I thought vehemently, just basking in each other's presence and more than likely making love every second that they could. I had been content with my mother's chiding of them over how far to go when they had moved in together, in their unwedded state; thinking of Sakura sleeping with anyone besides myself drove me into rages that I myself cannot describe adequately, and knowing that they refrained as much as possible to avoid humanity's ire more than satisfied me.

They had nothing stopping them from it now though, since they were married… such a thing was expected of them. There were none of society's pretenses and judgments holding them back, keeping them from being vocal about their sexual exploits, their want to form a larger family…

My throat grew tight at the thought of Sakura round with child, my _brother's_ child, and I clenched my fists before letting them go with a hopeless sigh, brushing one of my bangs back with a tired sweep of my hand. How forlorn my situation had become… and how lost I myself had, as well.

"I don't want to be alone with my thoughts. I'm sure you know why," I said in a monotone, looking down at my empty and useless hands, and a frustrated sigh came from the red headed man across from me.

"Sometimes I wonder if anything at all can be done to help you, Itachi. The answer is so simple, and yet it remains beyond your reach," Nagato commented crisply, a hand curling around his chin as he obviously considered something profound, and I glanced up at him sharply, straightening in my desk chair and looking him over critically.

"Do you mean to say that you know how I can fix this? How I can get what I want?" I questioned desperately, sitting forward and gripping the edge of my desk in my anxiety.

If he knew a way to put an end to the half a decade that I had been suffering from want and wallowing in helpless penance, I had to know.

A foxlike grin took over his look of deep contemplation, and he shook his head at the same time as he waggled one of his forefingers, indicating him declining my unspoken query for assistance. "Now, now, foolish student; what use would it be if I just told you? That is no way to learn… and it lends little to the fun I can glean from the unfolding of your attempts. No, I will not help you, but I trust in your abilities to find the way yourself. You are more than capable of discovering the answer, and you will be happier in the long run anyway," he cackled as he stood and brushed the wrinkles from his casual shirt down, ignoring my indignant glare with aplomb.

"As it is, though, I will tell you what you need to do right now. I want you to get out of my department building. You're here too much, for too long, and I want you gone before I walk back down the stairs from my office. Tomorrow, I don't want to see hide nor hair of you until after all three of your deputies are present and clocked in. Yes," he interrupted as I started to protest vocally, holding up a hand to silence me. "I am aware of how late Hidan is prone to being. This is my point. You will not set foot inside the doorway until they are _all_ settled in. Are we clear?"

I remained silent for a few, resentful moments before gritting my teeth and answering. "Yes sir. I understand completely," I grated out reluctantly, and my tutor gave me a kind smile, walking around my desk and clapping a hand to my shoulder.

"Don't worry. Everything will turn out how it should in time. Now go home and fuck your wife. You're _way_ too uptight, and I suspect that you haven't had a good lay in at least a week." He turned away following his comment, shoulders shaking in his laughter over his own words, and I let him walk away without comment on his last command, turning off my computer and gathering up my coat and keys in silence.

A week was an understatement, actually; the last time I had had relations with the woman I was married to had been the night Roku had been conceived. The need for sexual release was strong, but I had no problem dismissing it, since there was no way that such a thing would ever be achieved...

Not the way that I wanted, anyway.

The walk out of the building and the concluding drive was met with no other human contact, besides the man standing on the corner of an intersection loudly proclaiming that the end was nigh and that I had best repent of my sins lest I be condemned to the lowest circle of hell. Ha…

If the man only knew how badly I needed to repent.

I did not return to my home immediately following my obedient exit of the NYPD building, however, instead finding myself driving to Central Park and seating myself on one of the park benches located along the bank of the lake, completely disregarding the dangers of walking around the crime ridden park at night.

If anyone wanted to mug me, more power to them; I didn't particularly care at the moment.

I was only waiting for one o'clock to arrive so that when I did finally return home, Alora would be deeply asleep and I would not have to speak to her. I sighed, stuffing my hands into my suit coat pockets and looking up at the bare sliver of moon shining through the clouds of smog hanging low around the tips of the skyscrapers across the park from me.

On any normal occasion, I would have instantly obeyed my teacher's orders… there was none I respected more in the world than Nagato Pein, and it was ingrained on every instinct that I had to immediately follow his advices.

The truth of the matter overtook my efforts and wants to please him this time, however; I had no desire to obey in this instance. It was easy to ignore his demand, at least in part… yes; I would leave the department building. No; I would not return until the following morning, and not until the men working directly under me had dragged themselves in. But I could not acquiesce to his last request… because I did not _want_ to go home and have sex with my wife.

I _wanted_ to flee as fast as possible to France, interrupt a honeymoon, and have sex with my brother's.

* * *

Echoing silence reigned supreme at the dining room table in my cold and unhappy home; my eldest son ate out of his bowl of cereal politely and carefully, my youngest contemplated the spread of dry Cheerios in front of him with a concerned pucker between his tiny eyebrows, as if there was something wrong with the way the pieces of cereal were laid out, and my wife quietly picked at her toast and coffee with distaste clearly written across her features.

I completed my perusal of my family without comment or thought before returning my gaze to my own plate, expertly guiding my chopsticks to gather the very last clumps of egg remaining on it before setting them down and standing, picking up my plate and drawing the attention of the three other people in the room. I looked down at the already made up woman next to me pointedly, using my free hand to scoot my chair in with a soft scrape of the legs against the floor.

"Sakura and Sasuke are landing at seven thirty; I am going to meet them at the cottage and show them around before going to work." I said simply, and she nodded before swallowing her mouthful of black coffee.

"Whatev. Hey, is it alright if I go out and do some shopping today? The fall stylists just came out with their new lines, and I want to get in on it as soon as I can so I can set the trends again this season." Repressing the urge to roll my eyes at the waste of money, I nodded my acquiescence before turning to Kenji, who straightened up attentively as my gaze moved to him.

I smiled at this before leveling him with a stern look. "I trust that you are adequately prepared for your spelling test, son… I want to hear that you receive top marks again."

He nodded vigorously, putting his spoon down and grinning widely. "I am, father! Answer: A-N-S-W-E-R. See? I'm going to get another hundred and bring it back to show you! And guess what? We're going to the library today, and the book I was telling you about, the one with the people that read out loud and make characters come out of the stories? It's going to be there!"

I gave him another smile for his enthusiasm as I rounded the table, running a hand over the top of his head and ruffling his long obsidian hair genially. "I remember, yes; you will have to tell me the story when I return this evening. Perhaps you will be able to tell Sakura as well, since she is back now… but do not be distracted by that thought during your test this morning. You must keep your concentration leveled at all times."

His expression sobered as he nodded, looking as serious as the grave, and I laughed quietly before turning to my youngest son, bending over his high chair and smiling at him softly. He looked up at me with obvious love and recognition in his eyes, small hands reaching out to touch at my cheek and making a wet Cheerio stick to my skin. I ignored it in favor of leaning forward and kissing his forehead, lingering fondly.

"You be good for mommy today, Roku. Daddy has to go to work, but we'll play airplane when I come home, alright?" I muttered against his short black bangs and was answered with a happy giggle, a spray of Cheerios hitting the floor as he squirmed excitedly at the offer of the recognized game, and my heart swelled with my love for him and his brother as I sat back and, with a final encouraging smile aimed at Kenji, walked into the kitchen to wash my dishes and put them away.

That was how it was every morning; we would eat in near silence, I would announce my plans for the day, Alora would tell me hers, and I would make sure that Kenji had everything ready for school before bidding Roku farewell and leaving for work.

Ever since the Superintendent General had sent me home earlier than usual, I had been going to work later and coming home every evening at around nine instead of two or three in the morning, specifically to avoid a potential forced vacation if Nagato found me working against his orders. This resulted in being able spend more time with my children, so I did not mind too much…

I just wish there was something I could do to make the atmosphere here feel more like a home instead of an institution.

The drive over to the house that I had purchased for my brother and sister in law was slow, as it was located in one of the busier sections of town, and I was cursed at more than once for using my car's speed and maneuverability to my advantage. I detested city driving, displeased by how slow everything seemed to move, but my car saw more than enough speed when it came time to use it.

The McLauren F-1 that I had worked years to obtain was well worth the money I had paid and the trouble I had been forced to endure to gain it; it was the fastest car in its class, going a top speed of two hundred and forty miles an hour, and the roar the engine made as it accelerated was enough to make some car fanatics orgasm. I was very proud of it, used it to my full advantage whenever I could, and could honestly say that I might actually cry if anything ever happened to it.

Due to my skill at handling the early morning traffic of New York City, I arrived a few minutes before I had been supposed to, pulling into the two car driveway and getting out before examining the property clinically. The whitewashed siding and window shutters sparkled under the rising sun's rays, the light catching on the dew left over from the night's perspiration, and the small, quaint front lawn was clipped to precision, never once falling over the short sidewalk that led to the dainty front porch that sheltered the door leading inside.

The powder blue paint covering the walls seemed to put the sky itself to shame, and the small, white picket fence surrounding the property gated off the most well-kept property in the neighborhood. I had been sure to choose a good, low crime rated community, so that the two would be safe… they had friendly neighbors, with many young children that Sakura would be more than willing to play with in her spare time, and a community watch program was in effect at all times.

I knew without seeing that the backyard would be pleasing to them; it was fairly large, with two cherry trees and enough room to keep a dog in if they so wished, not to mention a patch of tilled and fertilized earth in the very back corner dedicated solely to gardening.

It was as I looked over the slate grey tiles on the roof above me that I realized why this place had reached out to me more than any of the others I had considered; Sakura's preferences radiated from every corner of the lot.

I could only hope that neither of them noticed, I mused to myself as a taxi cab pulled up in front of the small house, my brother emerging from the rear door first before pulling Sakura out with a gently offered hand.

I looked them over stoically as they gathered their travel bags from the trunk of the vehicle, noting the way that they moved around each other seemed closer and more intimate than before… like they knew each other better because of their time alone, with nothing to disturb them or to worry about.

A wave of jealous bitterness washed over me at this thought, but I was used to its appearance and didn't let it show, instead adopting my well-used leer as Sakura limped slightly while ascending the steps of the sidewalk, obviously sore from many rounds of vigorous lovemaking. I gave her a smirk as I unlocked the front door for them before tossing my brother the set of house keys, eyeing both of their awkwardly stiff bodies with amusement evident in my gaze.

"Try to keep the curtains closed when you get in the mood… there are children next door," I muttered, gesturing meaningfully over my shoulder at the next door neighbor's house, and Sakura's eyes instantly narrowed, her fist drawing back and aiming for my ear.

I stepped out of the way of her attack easily as my brother chuckled, rolling his eyes at me subtly before sweeping Sakura straight off her feet and carrying her bodily through the doorway and into their new home, Sakura's eyes staying grounded on mine in an intense but playful glare the whole way through the entrance.

She was distracted from our mock fight the instant that she was inside, however, gasping and struggling to get out of Sasuke's arms so that she could more closely examine the house's contents. I did not enter after them, seating myself on the front step instead and watching the cars pass by while keeping an ear on what they thought of the house.

I had no desire to watch them explore a place where I would only be welcome as a guest… the girl I loved on equal grounds with my own two sons would be making this place a home with my brother, not me, and I did not want to watch the process of discovery. It hurt enough as it was.

Every step that they took forward was another step Sakura took away from me… and I wasn't sure I would survive when she disappeared completely from my sight.

* * *

More than a month passed, during which time I was endlessly entertained while hearing of many of the exploits my brother and Sakura had with filling and arranging the cottage to their wants and needs from Sakura's own mouth.

She told me horror stories about a demon cat that slept in the smaller cherry tree, the crazy feline nearly taking her life, apparently, when Sakura attempted to pick some of the fruit from its branches. She expounded on the reasons why Sasuke should never be allowed to paint anything, due to his ineptness at using a roller and his ability to get paint on everything except for the wall he was supposed to be painting, and I laughed with her when she sighed over the insane old lady that lived across the street who constantly badgered her to come to church with her.

I was relieved that she still sought out my companionship as often as she did; I had been fearful that her new duties as a wife would keep her from doing so. She, however, never went a day without at least calling me to talk, often dropping by the penthouse in the evenings whether she had Sasuke in tow or not and occasionally coming to see me at the office, bringing me lunch and determinately rebuffing my most junior deputy's attempts to woo her (Hidan was not a subtle or romantic person, and I found morbid amusement in his efforts to be such while, at the same time, employing the use of every curse word in the English language).

Such actions caused my despair over seemingly losing her forever to wane, since she obviously had no desire to throw away our relationship, but the call that I received from my brother one afternoon made dread and trepidation creep icy hands up my spine once again; Sakura's menstrual cycle was a week late, and Sasuke wanted me to come and wait with him while Sakura took a pregnancy test.

I have never driven as fast as I did that day, nearly causing several accidents in my haste to reach my brother's home. I did not fully understand why I was in such a state; so what if they had a child together? They more than deserved the joy of such a gift, and I had no doubt in my mind that they would be capable parents.

The child would never be without love or anything that it desired… but still the feeling clutched at me, stealing my breath and turning my heart to ice. I felt similar to the way I had when I had discovered Sakura's lost virginity… but that couldn't be right. I couldn't really be so far gone that I would hold it against my brother to have a child with the woman he had married, would I? That was demented, immensely selfish, and utterly wrong; I did not feel that way. It was impossible…

Right?

When I walked in to their house and mounted the narrow staircase up to the second floor, Sasuke stuck his head around the doorframe of the bedroom he and Sakura shared before sighing with relief, beckoning to me. I followed after him, watching his agitated movements with curious eyes, before perching on the edge of their still unmade bed, observing Sasuke beginning to pace the length of the room restlessly, looking over at the closed bathroom door every few seconds with evident anxiety in his gaze.

I simply looked on for a while, counting his rounds of the room in my head to keep myself from thinking the wrong things, and after he had completed his twenty-fourth circuit I raised an eyebrow. "Sasuke, what is wrong? You are acting as though you are the one that might be pregnant."

He looked over at me for a second before shrugging stiffly and sitting next to me, twisting his hands together fretfully. "I don't know, Itachi… I just can't seem to stop worrying, and I don't even know why. What was it like for you, when Alora was pregnant the first time?"

Painful recollection nearly made me flinch back, and I barely retained my composure before glancing at him from the side and shooting him a tight, reassuring, and entirely false smile. He didn't truly want to hear about my experience; the sheer amount of guilt and remorse I had lived through every single day of it would horrify him, not to mention clue him in to the fact that I had been thinking of his wife when I had been creating the child in the first place.

As such, I made up a quick lie in an attempt to pacify him and try to calm him down. "It is natural to feel nervous, Sasuke; the knowledge that you have created life is a monumentous and profound realization, and even the bravest of men tremble at such a thought. It is important to remain strong for your wife, however, since this will be hardest on her. Just do the best that you can, don't be afraid to make a few mistakes at first, and everything will be fine."

He thought about my words for a moment, obviously not noticing how impersonal I made my answer, before nodding and smiling at me gratefully, punching my shoulder lightly before standing again.

"Thanks, man. You're always there when I need you… and I'll never be able to thank you enough for being here today. Sakura will be happy that you are; she would have called you before anyone else anyway," he said before beginning pacing again, though with significantly less agitation than before. It appeared that my words had successfully pacified him…

Now if only I could calm myself.

It was only a few more minutes, spent mostly in quiet discussion about Sasuke's progression in acquiring his business degree, before the knob of the bathroom door twisted, a pajama clad Sakura emerging with a blank expression gracing her pale and make up free face and a white plastic object held between her fingers. My heart immediately reached out to her, taking her expression as sadness over not being pregnant.

She stepped fully out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her before turning to her husband, who had rushed over to her the moment she had appeared with an anxious look on his face. Sakura handed the pregnancy test that she held to him without a word, looking up at him silently as he looked over it quickly before frowning.

Ah, he had never had to read one of these before…

I immediately stood and joined them where they stood, ready to offer my assistance and at the same time satiate my curiosity, and my silent approach was acknowledged when Sasuke looked over his shoulder at me pleadingly, begging me with his eyes for help while holding the test out to me. I took it immediately, looking down at the slim white applicator and quickly finding the symbols that would identify any woman using it properly as either pregnant… or not.

I felt my eyes widen reflexively as I recognized the presence of the second thin red line, and had to resist the sudden urge to crush the device in my hand to pieces.

She was pregnant.

God _damn_ it… just as I had finally managed to convince myself that I would think nothing bad of my brother for his claiming of the pink haired girl, just when I had finally overcome the initial threat of insanity and brash emotion, I found myself once again lost in the fury that consumed me, the rush of emotions washing me out into a virtual sea of ire, jealousy, possessiveness, and downright abhorrence.

I wanted to curse Sasuke for daring to mark this girl's womb as he had… I wanted to prove to him, through outright violence, that only _men_ had the right to do as he had done, and he was, in my hateful eyes, nothing more than a little boy that had pushed the card too far.

How _dare_ he take what should have been **mine**...

I struggled with the sudden rush of emotion for longer than I normally had to, but eventually I pushed it all back to contemplate later, glad for my absolute facial control, before nodding. "It's a positive," I said quietly, eyes locked on Sakura to gauge her reaction to the news, and her expression instantly turned to one of such joy that I immediately knew that she had known.

She had been fully aware of her state and had merely been trying to fool Sasuke.

This did nothing but add to my wrath, and as Sasuke turned to look at his wife in shock, I fell back a few steps, keeping an eye on their camaraderie while fuming silently, never once letting my anger show as Sasuke cried out happily that he was going to be a father, swinging Sakura around in his arms before setting her down again and placing his hand over where the essence of his and Sakura's love was growing.

I could do nothing more than glue that hated and unreservedly false half smile to my lips as I watched them, more irate than I ever have been before and knowing that it was not truly directed at the two celebrating young people before me… it was, wholly and completely, meant for myself.

I had had a chance to be in Sasuke's position once… and I had lost it because of some misplaced and blind notion of _duty_. They had taken the last step, the very last motion, which put Sakura fully out of my reach…

And I would never be able to reclaim her again.

* * *

I wanted to blame myself.

I wanted to think that it was, with my unrighteous and out of place desires, my fault that these things were happening. That it was god once again striking out in vengeance for the sins I had committed. In actuality, it more than likely wasn't any fault of mine; perhaps it was only the unfairness of the world itself, lashing out at two people that did not deserve its ire… or maybe it was, as some small, twisted part of my mind hoped, fate intervening.

Whatever the case, as the year grew longer and summer faded to golden autumn, disaster after disaster struck the home of my brother and his wife, and not only did it become apparent that nothing would ever be the same afterwards…

I too lost more than I can ever express.

* * *

The first of their tribulations was alarming and unexpected.

Two months into Sakura's pregnancy I got a frantic phone call from Sasuke, drawing me out of a meeting and making me run down four city blocks to reach the hospital in time (the traffic was too thick for me to bother with driving); Sakura had collapsed while at home alone, an unknown pain in her abdomen making her go blind in agony, and she had been rushed to the hospital.

I arrived just in time to hear the bad news being delivered.

Sakura's eyes were confused and incomprehensive as she was told of her miscarriage, not seeming to understand what the doctor was saying until she was told, point blank, that she was no longer pregnant and that her body had terminated the baby itself. She flinched back in horror at this information, a haunted look ghosting through her eyes, before tears filled them and spilled down her cheeks at the same time as heartbroken sobs leaked from her lips, bandaged and shaking hands covering her face as her every hope was crushed.

Hearing and seeing such a display was more agonizing than I can describe; surely it was a crime against heaven itself for such a creature to ever be caused such pain.

I spoke with the doctors quietly while Sasuke attempted to sooth his wife, trying to figure out how Sakura's pregnancy had been aborted so suddenly. They could offer me no explanations, however; they did not know. They had looked over her medical and prenatal records at least five times and could come up with nothing. The most that they could offer me was that her ability to have children was not lost, so she and her husband could always try again, and afterwards left.

I communicated this information to my brother and Sakura, and while Sasuke seemed cheered by the idea that not all was lost, Sakura didn't even seem to hear me, staring into space with glassy and hollow eyes. I sat with them for a few hours before being forced to return to work, but came to a horrible realization as I sat next to the broken and despondent woman in the hospital bed beside me.

There was some part inside of me, though I did not know how large a part it was, that was _glad_ that she had lost the baby.

* * *

The second of their losses was undoubtedly cruel, but brought confusion and suspicion along with the pity and sympathy I felt.

Sasuke and Sakura had wasted no time in delving into another attempt at being parents, and only a month after their second try, Sakura once again fell prey to the mysterious pain in her abdomen, again ending in miscarriage. The difference in the experience at the hospital was substantial, however; Sasuke and I were asked to wait in the hallway while a panel of doctors spoke with Sakura privately.

What could they have to say to her that they didn't think that we should hear?

I sat for a long while contemplating this, speaking comforting words to my distraught and occasionally crying brother, and could only come to one conclusion; they suspected that one, or both, of us might react badly to their hypothesis. My thoughts were confirmed when the group of doctors walked past me after telling us that we could enter now, Sasuke entering the room as quickly as possible so that he could be with his wife and, in effect, missing the conversation going on; the doctors spoke quietly of a psychological factor lending its hand to Sakura's losses.

If they hadn't already turned the corner, I would have punched the doctor speaking in the face for daring to suggest that something was wrong with my angel.

I did not have much knowledge of medical terms or applications, but I knew enough that this made me wary, despite my ire over the implications in general. Not of Sakura, naturally; she was entirely mentally stable. There was something within her consciousness, however, that was keeping her from becoming pregnant, and I had a feeling that this would not be the last time I heard about it.

When I walked in to the room Sakura occupied, she didn't even acknowledge my or Sasuke's presence, hands cold and motionless when each of us took one of them in an effort to calm and reassure her. She looked as if someone had hit her over the head and at the same time revealed the most terrible truth in the world to her; had the knowledge that some part of her didn't want to bear a child affected her that much?

Or was there something more wrong, a suspicion as strong as mine running through her mind that it wasn't just a child her body didn't wish to bear… but Sasuke's specifically?

* * *

The third and final ordeal came as unexpectedly as the rain on the fated night did, the day preceding it having been as clear and bright as any could be expected to be in the dawning month of February.

The evening of January thirtieth had fallen under the cover of heavy, thunderous clouds as the sun had sunk below the horizon, and sheeting rain replaced the rays of cold sunshine just as the last glimpses of them disappeared for the day. I was not disturbed by the appearance of the storm or by the suddenness of its approach; I loved the sound and nearly indiscernible patterns of rainfall. Its cadence was one that calmed me like nothing else could…

After this night, however, it would bring me nothing but memories of blood and tears and soul rending remorse.

I had spent the majority of the day with my sons, as it was one of my few and far between days off of work, exploring the joys of one of the children's museums in the vast city, and upon my return home received a phone call from my brother. I instantly went on my guard at his defeated and forlorn tone as he asked if it would be alright if he could come over and speak with me; I knew without asking what he wished to talk about, and I did not know how I could help him and not at the same time cause more damage.

The past three months had been difficult for everyone involved in the tragedy of my sister in law's losses; Sakura had entered a deep and consuming depression following her second miscarriage, and had yet to come out of it even minutely. She barely spoke, she rarely smiled, and had completely stopped trying to do anything. She never came to visit me anymore, she had not written a word on her laptop in weeks… naturally, I wanted to help. Her despondency hurt me like I was experiencing the sting of her loss myself, such was the pain I felt over the distance she had unintentionally put between us. I couldn't just sit back and do nothing while she suffered…

But I also didn't know what I should, or _could_, do about it.

I, personally, had tried everything that I could think of to cheer her. I visited her as often as I could, thinking of all that I knew of her (which was not a small amount) to find anything that would pull her from her sadness, but achieved nothing. I knew for a fact that Sasuke was trying his damnedest to do everything that he could to revitalize her; I had seen his efforts for myself, and they were in no way half-hearted. But nothing changed. She just sat there, staring into space and occasionally responding with one or two word sentences.

I had never felt so helpless in my life, not even while enduring their wedding.

Despite the hopelessness of the situation, I utterly refused to give up and stop trying to save her from herself, and as such, of course, accepted Sasuke's request to visit and spent the following two and a half hours in deep discussion with my younger brother, seriously considering any options the joining of our minds could come up with.

According to his tale, Sakura utterly refused to even consider trying for another child until she could determine the reason why she had lost the first two, and had recently taken up the habit of distancing herself from Sasuke by sleeping in the living room, spending most of her time in long, arduous hours of study, searching thick medical texts and online information centers for an answer late into the night. She ate so little that she often had headaches and trembled because of her blood sugar dropping dangerously low, and more often than not refused to leave the house whenever offered the chance.

I could see, from just sitting next to the man, that Sasuke was becoming desperate. He was close to depression himself, unsatisfied with how unsuccessful his efforts to help his wife were. He had tried everything he could think of to comfort Sakura, to let her know that it was not her fault and that he still loved her, no matter what, but never seemed to get through to her. He wondered aloud if something had gone wrong in her psyche, if maybe he should consider turning to a mental health professional for aid, because Sakura's deepening melancholy was progressing to a hazardous level, and soon, her life itself would be at risk.

I was unsure of whether I should agree with him or be angry at his doubt of her.

In the end, I advised him to give her some more time. I myself hoped that, with the passing of a few more days, at most a few weeks, she would either discover the source of her problem or give up and return to normal; she surely must realize that miscarriages are no fault of the mother's, especially if they take care of themselves like Sakura had been doing, and would see that her behavior was counterproductive. But if she did not… perhaps it would be for the best to seek medical attention for her. I could not bear the thought of Sakura's unhealthy and treacherous misery reaching a higher level than it already was, and would accept even the most barbarous options to save her.

She would recover from this. She had too; there was no other option in my mind.

It was not difficult to tell that Sasuke had been expecting of better results from our discussion; his reluctant acceptance of my advice proved this almost as readily as his disappointed expression did. He gave me nothing but thanks in response, however, trusting to a fault of my opinion, as always, though he should not have been. If he had known my deepest thoughts, my most treasonous secret… I would have lost him forever, I am sure of it.

He would not be so foolish as to trust one such as I, especially in matters concerning his wife.

Our communion had remained uninterrupted, due to my wife's interest in her online shopping, but Alora came to offer her assistance when Sasuke was readying to leave. She was, for one reason or another, fairly close friends with Sakura, and she was truly worried about her condition. As such, she desired to go and spend the evening with her, acting as a familiar and female shoulder to cry on, or something of that sort.

I acquiesced, letting her depart with my brother into the rain sodden night, and sat back to await news of the encounter, the possible chance of Alora's involvement making all the difference giving my formerly despondent thoughts a more pleasant edge. I had every confidence that this maneuver would create some sort of reaction… perhaps this was the cure that my brother and I had been seeking.

I would never find out, however, because only ten minutes after they departed, the police radio I kept in my office started going haywire.

I did not fully understand the information coming through the speakers, at first; the policeman that had witnessed the crash was shaken and terrified by the event, and the report he was making was unclear and hazy. A few moments of close listening, however, lent me the information that sent me reeling: a semi-trailer truck had been distracted by a small animal, more than likely a lowland rabbit, darting across his path and had swerved to avoid the beast, unaware of the car beside him.

In any normal circumstance, the damage would not be as catastrophic as was being communicated, but by some cruel twist of fate, the two vehicles had been passing beneath an overpass at the time, and the smaller car had been crushed against the wall of the structure, presumably instantly killing the passengers and causing the semi to overcorrect upon realizing his mistake, skidding on the wet road and tumbling side over side into the median.

It was not hard to feel sickened by the tragedy and feel sympathy for the victims of it; I was not a heartless man, and much had been lost on the front of these people's families.

It was not until I heard the officer present begin to rattle off the numbers and letters of Sasuke's license plate that I grasped that I was the one who should be being sympathized.

The speed with which I rushed to the crash site was foolhardy and thoughtless; I could have caused more damage than I saved in my urgency, but at the moment I did not care. My brother had been part of a catastrophic accident, and I _had_ to save him. It was my duty to protect him, and I had sent him to his death so a woman I desired unrighteously could recover when I should have been thinking of his safety. I had failed him then, but I would not again. There had to be some hope.

He couldn't be dead.

The second that I arrived, I jumped from my car and rushed to where Sasuke's was smashed against the wall of the overpass, elbowing worried spectators to the side and frantically looking through the shattered windows in desperation. The rain that fell on my coat and hair meant nothing as I searched for signs of life, and the blood that was quickly spreading across the pavement underneath my feet went unacknowledged in my mind. It was inconceivable that he could be lost to me when I had caused this with my obsession. I refused to believe it and negated to give up that last bit of hope that there was some possible way that the situation could still be salvaged.

Why it was that the sight of my wife's sightless and dead eyes staring at me from the wreckage didn't bother me as much as Sasuke's agonized and helpless ones, I can only guess.

Immediately after realizing that my brother was still alive, I alerted the newly arrived medical personnel, and soon the presumed hopeless wreckage was swarming with life, policemen and EMTs trying to force apart the twisted metal to save the man trapped within while flashes of lightning and floodlights kept precariously within the shadow of the overpass that both saved us from the rain and had doomed two people to death lit the way.

I was discontented by the feebleness of what I was able to do; I could do nothing but tell two of the policemen present to go to Sakura's home as quickly as they could to bring her here and watch while paramedics worked nonstop to halt the flow of blood emitted by Sasuke's wounds. I was helpless to do anything but stare in disbelief at the jagged strip of metal piercing completely through the right side of his chest, watch as he coughed up more and more blood from his rapidly filling, punctured lung. I could not force the doctors to continue working on him after it was obviously decided that he was beyond help…

I could only go to his side, looking down on the pale and drawn form of my younger brother with such heartache, such malice felt for myself, that I was sure our pain was comparable on some extremely minute level.

He did not look up at me with the hate that I deserved, only moving his hand up to clutch at my arm and draw me closer, his chest heaving as he tried to continue breathing. "Itachi… Alora… I tried to save her, but the overpass… I couldn't… I'm so sorry…" he muttered, expression pained and worried, and I shook my head, waving his concern away as a cough colored dark red by flecks of blood ripped from him, making me flinch imperceptibly.

"You did all that you could, Sasuke. I know this; you are a good man that always puts others before himself. Don't worry. I will make sure that these imbeciles take the best care of you that they can," I promised furtively, and was taken aback when he scoffed bitterly, wiping at the thin trail of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth while his eyes narrowed in pain.

"No… I heard them talking. They've done all that they can. I am not worried about myself… but I am worried about Sakura. She will not know what to do once I am gone… no, Itachi, don't try to deny it," he said as I started to shake my head, cutting me off before I could even say a word in comfort. "I can see the knowledge of it in your eyes as well, so spare me the comforts and listen. You've lost so much tonight, brother… you will not feel it now, but later, when you have time to think about it, you will feel the pain of losing the mother of your children and… *cough* and me… but you are strong, and you will be able to handle it. Sakura… is not. It took her years to get over losing the parents that she barely even remembers… she will be devastated. You know this as well as I do, and we both also know that t-there is no better man to… *cough* to take my place in her heart than y-you. You've l-loved her long enough to h-have proven that."

I could only stare at him incomprehensibly, mouth open minutely, as he told me, in so many words, that he _knew_ of my innermost thoughts. That he knew, and he wanted me to act on them after his death. The only reaction that I could force from myself was denial, and I forced it with all my being.

"Sasuke, you are delusional. They must have given you too much morphine; you do not know what you are saying…" I said quickly and quietly, and a growl of annoyance came from him, quickly followed by a yelp of pain and a long, ragged fit of bloody coughs. It continued for several long minutes, every muscle in his body tense from the pain, but his gaze did not waver from mine, and it said everything that I needed to know; he knew that I was lying, and he didn't appreciate me wasting his remaining time with the attempt.

He recovered from the fit after several, worry laden minutes, and once he did he resumed glaring, wiping at his blood coated lips again with the back of a shaking hand while the other grabbed at my shirt collar, dragging me down so that I was level with him.

"Don't you _dare_ l-lie to me about this while I'm lying h-here dying, Itachi! There… *cough cough* there isn't time!" he snarled at me, grip strong and firm even though his voice and breathing were not. "D-did you really think that I hadn't learned a-anything from y-you over the… *cough* years that you've been in the police force? I'm n-not as blind as I-I was as a child, b-brother… I knew the instant t-that I brought S-Sakura past your doorstep that y-you felt something for her more than f-f… *cough* friendship. I saw w-when you realized that you w-wanted her, when you s-started hating… *cough _cough_* me for having her… but I didn't c-care, because I knew y-you would never d-do anything about it."

My breath froze in my throat, my gaze locked with his as he slowly, yet unknowingly ripped every last piece of my pride and dignity away, leaving me with nothing but shame and dejected misery. He had known… for _years_… I could barely listen as he continued, so lost was I in the pain of not only inevitably losing my brother, but my grip on the world I had created as well.

"You've a-always cared too m-much about others t-to help yourself, e-even if it meant… *_cough_* having what you w-wanted most. You would h-have spent your whole l-life as Sakura's friend j-just so I could be *cough* happy. Well… I don't want t-that t-to continue, now that… ***cough*** now t-that I'm going to be g-gone. Make her happy, I-Itachi. Give h-her everything that I-I couldn't. Make sure s-she never frowns, n-never needs anything… never h-has to turn to… *_cough cough_* to another l-less deserving of her heart. L-love her like I k-know you d-do. Take care of h-her and n-never let her go."

Thunder crashed in the distance, horns blaring and tires screeching as the traffic blocked up by the accident became ever more impatient. I paid no mind to any of it, however, as my brother delivered his last request to me, his final plea as he lay on his deathbed, and I knew that he completely expected me to honor his petition.

Not only was he trying to help me… he was counting on me to care for the woman that had become the focal point of his world, and my heart ached with more emotions than I had known I could feel all at once. I was more than shocked, bitter, afraid, pained, miserable, concerned… but above all, I was unaccepting.

How could he expect me to take his place, just like that? I might have wanted it for longer than acceptable, but… for him to have been aware, and be giving me _permission_ to take his wife into my care, in more than one way, was too much. Action would always be much different than thought, and there was no way, in my mind, that any of my desires could come to light, especially this way.

I could not do this.

"Sasuke… you presume too much. It is not as simple as you make it out to be, and there is much that has to be thought about on this matter. I… I cannot…" I stuttered uncharacteristically, nervously trying to communicate the impossibility of his request, but he shook his head again, waving aside my half formed denials and glaring at me through the ever increasing coughs racking his body.

"Yes, you c-can. Y-you don't h-have to think… *cough* a-a-about this. In f-fact, don't think. J-just promise me. Promise t-that you'll h-help her get b-better and… that you'll… *cough* f-find happiness for… y-yourself with her. I-it's all that I w-want… from b-both o-of you."

I could not meet the intense gaze that he fixed me with, turning my head to the side and glaring out into the sheeting rain severely to belay the tears building in my eyes and blurring my vision. "You do not know what you are asking, Sasuke. You cannot ask me for that, not with you… not like this," I growled, clenching my fists and beating back my resentment at his presumptions of my good intentions, but his voice made my faux anger dissipate more quickly than any attempt that I could make, soft with his caring and begging in his worry for my and his wife's well-being.

"Please, Itachi… she w-won't survive w-without you, at… *cough _cough_*at l-least not at f-first. I know t-that you love h-her, a-and that y-you love me, so p-please… help… ***cough*** help h-her get over t-this… and help y-yourself as w-well."

His pleading tone was too much for me to handle in my state, and a sob of pure misery broke from me, the hand that wasn't clenched around my knee as I knelt beside him moving up to cover my face as a sudden rush of hot, shameful tears leaked from my eyes.

"Sasuke, _no_… it's too much for me to… she needs _you_, not… I-I can't do this…" I choked out, the tears running down my cheeks as I tried to communicate my fears, but he shook his head firmly, forcing back a cough and swallowing a groan of pain at the effort, his hand tightening on my arm.

"Promise, Itachi."

I shuddered, another sob breaking free from me, and slowly nodded, trembling as my despair overpowered me. I tried not to think about what the pact I had just made with my dying brother meant too much as I wiped at the tears on my cheeks ineffectually, keeping my eyes averted from Sasuke's suddenly peaceful expression.

"Thank you, b-brother… I know t-that you… *_cough_* won't l-let me down. You n-never h-have," he said quietly, and my throat tightened. I was turning to look at him, hands still shaking from my sudden outbreak of emotion, when a sliver of bright pink caught my attention, making me whip my head around to see Sakura hurriedly getting out of the backseat of a police cruiser, looking frantically around in an apparent attempt to locate Sasuke's whereabouts.

She had obviously left her home in a thoughtless rush; she was not wearing a coat, full length pants, or even shoes. The rain that she ran through frantically soaked her to the bone in an instant…

I sighed, the pangs of worry I felt for her reminding me of the impossible task I had been assigned by the man beside me, and I turned fully to him, looking him over sadly before standing halfway (that was all that I could stand up to while inside of an ambulance).

"Sakura is here… I am sure you wish to speak with her alone," I said as evenly as I could manage, though the tears I had just shed choked my voice without permission, and he nodded before grabbing on to my hand when I started to exit the ambulance, making me look back at him. His expression was serious before he grinned suddenly and brightly, squeezing my hand tightly.

"Aishiteru, aniki," (1, 2) he muttered, and my heart clenched painfully at the remembered childhood exchange. Swallowing back another wave of tears, I smiled back at him as best I could, squeezing his blood-soaked fingers in parting.

"Aishiteru, otouto," (1, 3) I whispered before dismounting the back of the emergency vehicle, quickly stepping out of sight as the med tech that Sakura was currently questioning pointed to the ambulance Sasuke was lying within, her footsteps quick and focused as she rushed to the back of it and climbed in.

I declined myself the desire to stay and try to listen to what they said to each other, leaving the lovers to their last moments and instead walking over to the other ambulance parked in the shade of the overpass, sitting on the bumper and looking inside at the closed eyelids of the woman I had been married to, the woman that had borne my children, and thought of what would need to be done, in lieu of the promise that I had just made and the promise I no longer had to honor.

I was now released from all of the obligations that had held me so closely bound regarding my infatuation with the surely grief ridden woman mere feet from me. My marriage vows were as meaningless as any other words uttered and laid to dust, with Alora's passing. As long as we both shall live… she was gone, and so were my ties to monogamy. I was free to pursue as many romances as I wished…

Why did I feel no desire to peruse the female population, then?

Why did I not even want to look at the girl who had occupied my thoughts every day for the past five years? Wasn't this what I had wanted? Freedom and the ability for it to just to be the two of us? It had been, yes… but the price was one that I did not want to have paid. My happiness was not worth the death of my wife and my…

My _brother_…

My fists clenched in a similar manner as my heart, tears once again building in my eyes and threatening to fall should I continue on my thought process. I wiped them away angrily, refusing my thoughts and thinking instead of the other promise I was bound to. I had made another obligation, an oath sworn in the passing of a soul to the netherworld and in the shedding of innocent blood.

Sasuke wished for me to care for Sakura… to make sure she was happy again. That she was able to move on and smile, and that I be able to do the same. No matter which way that I looked at it, it seemed an insurmountable ordeal. There was no way I would be able to do it, not with how the chance had been given to me. My obsession, finally satisfied by the loss of such precious life…

No matter the light I shone it in, it just seemed… _wrong_.

I was pulled from my contemplations by the familiar flash of pink catching my attentions, dragging my gaze from the woman beside me and… over to outside the gathering of emergency vehicles, in the opposite and freely moving lane of traffic.

My eyes widened as I saw the obviously grief stricken woman continue to stumble further away from the light of the police cars and ambulances, her shoulders shaking and hands locked around her body as if holding herself together forcibly.

What the hell was she _doing_? Those cars were moving!

I surged up and sped my footsteps as fast as they could go, running after the staggering, trembling woman that was slowly making her obviously unknowing way into oncoming traffic. Just as she was about to step in front of a speeding and frantically beeping minivan I caught up to her, grabbing ahold of her quaking shoulders and yanking her away before turning her and tugging her close to my chest tightly.

The wind from the vehicle's passing blew strands of our hair about in a sudden gale, twisting them together and making long dead leaves float around us along with sprays of rainwater from below and more drops of the moisture from above, but I had no attention to spare for the occurrences surrounding me… the haunted and despairing look that I had seen on Sakura's face consumed every iota of my regard.

My arms tightened around her even more as I realized belatedly what the only thing her being out here and looking like that could mean, and fought to keep my voice level as I questioned my hypothesis.

"Sasuke?" I inquired, sounding far gruffer than intended while forcing back the rebuilding tears, and she flinched before burying her face deeper in my already soaking wet coat, nodding minutely and trembling violently. I closed my eyes and sighed brokenly, resting my cheek against the top of her head as all the fight left me, the tears I had pushed back streaming freely and without reproach.

Sasuke was dead. My little brother had died in the cold, empty space of betrayal of the worst kind, and it was all my fault.

I felt the woman I was embracing shudder again, and realized that she was waiting for some sort of reciprocation from me. I forced myself to speak through my gloom, and my voice came out mangled and broken, but that was alright…

That's what I was right now.

"Alora is gone too," I admitted, and a gasp came from her before a sob of such utter despair ripped from her that I felt that my own sadness was put to shame, her hands clutching at my arms desperately as nearly all of her strength left her at once. I immediately aided her in standing, holding her up and cradling her close to me as she whimpered and wept, moving one of my hands up to hold the back of her head and joining her in her misery.

"Oh, Itachi…" I heard her whisper through her cries, and I nodded for lack of anything else to do, stroking her hair and holding her close while car after car whipped past us, uncaring of the loss we had just gone through as they went on their way. They would never understand the pain that she felt… but I did.

Oh, how well I knew it.

"I know…" I muttered in acknowledgement of her broken plea for understanding, and thought no more of the decisions I had facing me in my future, paying mind only to the huddled shoulders of the woman I shielded as best I could from the rain, our suffering mirrored in a way that only those who have known true defeat can comprehend.

* * *

It is difficult to express how exactly I made it through those first few weeks. I remember little, besides the grief and aguish I felt for the loss of my brother and my wife and the guilt and remorse I felt over Sasuke's last words to me. Surely human beings were not meant to survive feeling this way. The pain that I lived through every day felt almost physical in its magnitude, but I welcomed the agony in the moments that I was capable of thinking of it without shying away from the considerations.

I had brought the shame of my situation upon myself, and the knowledge of being as close to a murderer as I could be without actually committing the crime itself was deserved in every extreme.

The fact that Sakura had completely disappeared off of the face of the earth and that it didn't seem to bother me as much as it once would have only made things worse.

I wasn't sure how I should feel and act about this. I knew how I was supposed to feel; I should have been concerned that she did not contact me following the night we spent together in the hospital, awaiting the diagnosis that we already knew. I should have been worried about the effect of her being alone in her state. I'm sure that I was, actually, however minute the level of my unease was. It was not that I didn't care; I was, naturally, troubled by considerations about the progression of her depression and how she was coping with her loss.

I was, however, simply content to wonder and do nothing about it, and that was what vexed me.

Before the loss of my brother and wife, I would have been ripping my hair out and driving myself insane with anxiety… the thought that my obsession and love for the girl had disappeared right at the moment that I was able to take advantage of them was disturbing. But perhaps it was better this way.

Even if it meant that I would be breaking my promise to Sasuke (the considering of this oath breaking made my heart ache), I was sure that we would both be better off without reminders of what we had lost further than we already did.

Just looking at the pictures that I had of her hanging on the walls of my home made me miss my brother more.

In the moments that I was feeling masochistic enough to truly consider the pact that I had made, despite having no intention of keeping it, I wondered at the impossibility of it and the intricacy that would be required in acting upon it, especially with my current state of melancholy.

No matter which way I turned the situation, I just couldn't find a way that it could be done and not make Sakura think all the wrong things. For me to care for her, make her whole again, bring back her smile, seemed an impossible task while I was so lost myself. I was not capable of the feat in my condition.

The resentment I felt for the proprietor of the forced promise was short-lived when I felt it, because the instant that I realized I was cursing my deceased brother, I pushed such thoughts from my mind and utterly refused to think of them again.

I recall the days passing slowly, my dispassionate and stark refusal of my previously all-consuming obsession taking up more of my thoughts than even I realized. I had to work constantly to keep myself from years of habit, to stop myself from thinking of the pink haired girl and to keep from reaching for the phone when another hour passed and she hadn't called. I did not allow myself to be concerned about this too much; to my grief ridden mind, disregarding my brother's last request and my baser instincts was a small price to pay for me to find my peace.

Besides, I told myself more than once as I once again began to wonder if everything was as it should be in Sakura's home; she was a grown woman. She was capable of taking care of herself. She did not need me hanging over her shoulder, telling her what to do and fretting over her every footstep.

I had more than enough of my own problems as it was.

Due to my loss and my superior's worry over my sudden emotionless shell, I had been forbidden to return to work for three weeks, put on temporary leave until I could "clean up my act and get over myself". As such, I spent nearly every waking moment that I had with my children, and discovered a heart wrenching and engulfing difficulty…

I was an ineffectual parent.

It was not as though I did not know how to take care of my sons at all, of course; I knew how to cook for, clean, and clothe them. I knew how to bathe them, how to play with them for short amounts of time and how to talk about what interested them... but that was all. I did not know what kinds of foods they did and did not enjoy, I did not know what size clothes they wore or even where to shop for such things.

I had not realized that Kenji was allergic to peanuts until it was almost too late, and I had not been aware that Roku required a nap halfway through the day, else he become an intolerable burden. I could not handle the job of cleaning my suddenly incredibly immense home by myself, especially with my youngest son crawling in my shadow and undoing all of the cleaning I had just completed…

And I did not know how to help them cope with the loss of their mother.

I myself was disturbingly unaffected by her death. Most of my grief was centered on the demise of my brother and the destruction of my carefully created haven in which I could obsess over his wife without reproach; I had barely felt Alora's departure further than an absence in my bed at night and an empty spot at the dining room table. I actually caught myself smiling once when I was looking at my monthly bank account notice, pleased by how much more money I had when it wasn't being frivolously wasted.

I was saddened by the loss of her life, to be sure… but only from the viewpoint of a spectator. We had not even retained a friendship at the end, she and I… we had merely been two people living together and occasionally speaking a few words to one another.

There was a part of me, too deep inside for me to want to explore, that recognized that I had loved the now passed woman and missed what we had once had, but my uncaring depression extended to this subject as well; it didn't matter that I had once felt for her. She was gone… just another death caused by my foolishness.

In observance of this, I felt little trauma over Alora's passing and contented myself with acknowledging her loss only by the continuance of wearing my wedding ring and mourning her memory every now and again.

My children, however, were a much different matter.

Kenji had loved his mother, despite her disinterest in his existence as a whole; anyone who had seen the way he admired her could claim this to be true, and her death had affected him greatly. He barely read anymore and rarely spoke more than a few words at a time, a great and disturbing change from his former enthusiastic commentary and questioning.

Roku was not immune to Alora's death either, despite being far too young to understand what he had lost; he was aware of the fact that the woman that had been caring for him was gone and too suffered, appetite waning to an alarmingly low level.

The lack of what I could do about any of my children's plights was painful and surreal to me. How could I have allowed my own family to go so unattended for so long? I had not been fair to them, with how focused I was on Sakura… and I would make that up to them.

I decided, the instant that I heard my five year old son crying late in the night, that I would never put anything before my children again. When I was allowed to go back to work, I cut my hours to a mere handful, working no more than ten hours a day and completely taking the weekends off.

As much as this maneuver pleased me, and as much as it seemed to make my children happy, they still suffered. I did not know how I was supposed to fix their quandary; in the beginning, I suspected that they required a female presence so they could be comforted, and hired carefully picked nannies to watch over them in my absence. This did worse than nothing, however; not only was the attempt a complete failure, due to the distrust my children felt for these women, I ran into problem after problem while trying.

One day I returned to my home to find a house sitter asleep on the couch while Roku was attempting a heist on the kitchen cupboards. More than one badgered me constantly for attention that I did not intend to grace any female with again, putting their duties of caring for my children to the side in lieu of trying to charm me. Yet another actually attempted to steal from me, and almost got away with quite a sum of money before being caught by the owner of the building while descending in the elevator, both thief and money being returned in an expeditious manner by the aged and grand Japanese woman. Following this difficulty I desisted in my attempts to find a sitter, but never stopped trying to think of a solution for my children's suffering. There must be a way…

As a direct result of my troubles and my overall helplessness, my grief and my inexorable pain, the discovery that I made on a night more fateful than anyone could have known affected me more greatly than it normally would have, I think. If I had been calm, centered, and without such burdens, I might have handled it with more poise and discretion. This was not the case, however…

Because the realization that I had been cheated in much the same manner that I had been considering for years drove me over the edge.

* * *

There was someone in my home, and I did not know who it was.

I came to this realization in the early hours of evening on February twenty sixth (nearly a month after the passing of Sasuke and Alora), distracted from the perusal of the novel I was listening to my son read out loud by the front door being unlocked. This alarmed me, naturally; I had given no one either of the two keys that I possessed for the matching deadbolt and doorknob of the entrance to my penthouse (one was in use by me, while the other had been in Alora's possession before her death), and I had both sets on the key ring currently residing in my pocket.

Kenji had noticed the sounds of an unknown party entering the house as well and stopped reading, looking over my expression with worry from his position in the wing backed chair beside my own, the fire I had made not twenty minutes ago in the grate in my library throwing wavering shadows across his face.

I put a finger to my lips to communicate that silence was required as I gently lifted the slumbering form of my nearly year old younger son off my lap, standing and placing him back in the vacated seat.

"Keep quiet, Kenji, and do not leave this room. Lock the door after I leave. I will knock four times upon my return," I whispered to him, and he nodded with wide eyes, fingers clutching at his book nervously, but his posture spoke of determined courage, body already turned so that he was between the door and his younger brother.

I smiled inwardly at the gesture before striding quickly across the room and over to one of the ceiling high bookshelves lining the walls, quickly perusing the third shelf and withdrawing a book titled The Peaceful Solution. Opening it with care, I withdrew the .45 caliber handgun contained within the cavity inside the book, uncaring of the fact that it was unloaded (I kept numerous firearms in my home in case of such an occurrence, but kept none of them loaded with ammunition in the event of one of my sons finding them).

The presence of the gun would be more than enough to scare a common thief.

Keeping it loosely gripped in my hand, I quietly slipped out the door and padded down the hallway, back to the wall and ears pricked for the location of the perpetrator. From the heavy footsteps and light humming that I could hear coming from near the stairwell, I could guess that whoever it was was not expecting anyone to have been home. Also judging from the ease that the intruder was navigating my apartment…

This was not the first time they had been here.

Eyes narrowing at this train of thought, I snuck out from the hallway I had been sheltered in and dashed over the kitchen doorway, once again placing my back to wall and watching, from my new observation point, the shadowed figure of someone making their way up the top section of the stairs, the breadth of the shoulders cluing me in to the fact that the interloper was male, despite the nearly midback length blonde hair that was tied up into a half ponytail…

Recognition shook me and made my eyes widen slightly, my grip tightening minutely on the gun in my hands. I knew that hair… the man currently stepping off of the top step of my stairs and turning down the hallway that lead to my bedroom was none other than Deidara Iwa, one of the two doorman of the apartment complex that I resided in (Mr. Iwa worked mostly during the night, and his partner, an annoying and abrasively childlike man by the name of Tobi, worked during the daytime).

I was not particularly fond of the man; he was an incorrigible flirt and had made his interest in not only my wife and Sakura, but everything female very apparent. I was not impressed by this and avoided contact with the offensive man when I could manage it. Despite not speaking with him often, I was sure that he was aware of the fact that I was a high ranking police officer, and that there would be severe and potentially fatal consequences for such action.

What reason could he have for breaking into my apartment, then?

Confused and taken aback, I followed after the obviously unsuspecting man soundlessly, ascending the stairs without a sound and trailing after his muttering form. He continued his path straight to my room and through the slightly ajar door, turning on the light and looking around as if searching for something that was usually there but was mysteriously absent.

Unwilling to have this apparent thief touch any of my property, I finally made my presence known as the doorman began to walk towards my bathroom with a confused pucker between his eyebrows, stepping up behind him and firmly placing the muzzle of the firearm I held against the joint of his jaw, just below his ear. He froze at the touch of the cool metal to his skin, back shooting ramrod straight and breaths coming in short, frightened bursts.

I was unmoved by his fear, however, more interested in discovering why he was here, how he got in so easily, and what I would do about his presence after determining these things. My voice was measured and revealed nothing when I spoke, the point of my gun pressing a little harder against his jaw and jerking a terrified flinch from him.

"You have ten seconds to explain your presence in my home, Mr. Iwa, before you find yourself in significant loss of the motor skill that you value so highly. Begin."

The threat to shoot his jaw off of his face scared him more than I had intended it to, his whole frame trembling as petrified tremors racked his body. His voice shook and came out much higher than it normally would have when he found his bravery (preceded by several attempts to speak that ended with squeaks and panicky stuttering that I did not understand), and he didn't move an inch from where he had been arrested in his forward motion by my interrupting of his venture.

"Oh _shit_, yeah… oh fuck me… Mr. Uchiha, I… I-I didn't know you were even here, man, yeah… I… we… I just… you're never here this early in the evening, and… and I just thought that Alora would be… yeah…" he stammered out, hands grasping at the legs of his pants in an obvious attempt to ground himself through his panic, and my eyes narrowed, not understanding his explanation.

"I have not stayed out of the house this late in two months, Mr. Iwa. A more proficient thief would have done his homework and, perhaps, looked out in the parking garage where my car is clearly visible. More to the point, however… why would you assume to come to my apartment when I was not present, but when the rest of my family… was…?" I started to query, but fell silent as I spoke, answering my own question just as I spoke it. This man had obviously been here before, had come when I was not at home but when my wife and children were, and had been expecting to find my wife up here...

It could not be true.

"Turn around. _Now_," I commanded acerbically, gritting my teeth painfully tight and clenching my fingers so hard that my joints cracked. He obeyed clumsily, stumbling over his own feet as he raced to follow my order and then proceeding to nearly have a stroke upon seeing my expression, eyes flying wide and taking an involuntary step backwards upon having the full brunt of my suspicious fury unleashed on him. I glared more hatefully than I ever have in my life at the blonde haired, blue eyed _boy_, advancing on him slowly and raising my gun until it was pointed at his forehead.

"Correct me if I am wrong, _Mr. Iwa_…" I muttered darkly, taking another step that matched his own retreating one. "But I am under the impression that you have come here seeking something from my recently deceased wife that only I was privy to… and that this is not the first time such a thing has occurred."

My assumption was met with his jaw dropping open slightly as he bumped up against the wall beside my bed, the appendage moving up and down without making a sound as my guess obviously hit home, and my heart seized in my chest.

I wanted so many things in that moment as I discovered the earthshattering truth; I wanted to fall to my knees and cry, I wanted to find some bullets and kill this incorrigible trespasser, I wanted to exult that I was not the only one to have been in the wrong in this marriage, I wanted to curse Alora's name for daring to betray me so completely… but mostly I wanted to know why.

If I could gauge how long she had been committing adultery, I could either free myself from condemnation from her actions or be forced beneath even more.

That was all that mattered.

"So it is true then…" I growled, taking that last step forward and pressing the tip of the firearm against the man across from me's forehead. "You should realize that I am fully within my rights to take your life at this point. Do not doubt my ability, Mr. Iwa; this is not an empty threat. I have killed more men in my line of work than you have notches in your bedpost. I could make it look like an accident. No one would ever know what really happened, I can promise you that. But I'm not going to do that. Do you know why?" I asked with cruel cynicism in my voice, like I was questioning his intelligence, and he trembled even further, shaking his head slowly and grasping at the wall behind him with quivering hands.

I smirked at him confidingly, leaning forward as if to share a secret with a trusted friend. "It is simple. There is a chance that you have information that I require, and the price of it is worth more to me than your life. So choose your answer carefully… it could make the difference between leaving here with your head still attached and ending up in the Hudson with the rest of the refuse this city excretes."

His acquiescing nod was hurried and jerky, the back of his head hitting the wall as he tried to escape the muzzle of the gun when I pressed it more firmly against his skin.

"Good. We understand each other then. I have only one question… I hope your answer is satisfactory. How long have you and my wife been sleeping together?" I asked quietly, voice deathly in its intimidation and completely devoid of the curiosity burning in my veins, and he swallowed heavily before getting a faraway look in his eyes, a pucker appearing between his drawn together eyebrows as he considered my query.

"A couple of years, yeah. She would call me if she wanted me to come, and if I wanted her company, I came up to see her. She gave me a copy of your key so I come when I wanted, yeah. I hadn't heard from her in a couple months, and I was missing her, so… I guess it makes since that she didn't call, if she's… yeah…" he admitted while looking between me and the gun held to his head, and I shook my head, ignoring the rest of the information he had given me for the moment so I could focus on his vague first answer.

"You're going to need to be more specific than that. How many years _exactly_?" I inquired forcefully, and he gave me a strange look, obviously confused as to why this particular information was so important to me.

"It's hard to remember, yeah. I'd have to say it was four years. She said she was lonely," he supplied, and my throat tightened as my suspicion was confirmed. I took a step backwards blindly, hamstringing myself on the edge of my bed and slumping in on myself once forcibly seated.

Four years… that was the time that I had started distancing myself from Alora. I had stayed at work long hours, pointedly avoided sleeping with her… I had driven her to this.

It was my fault _again_.

I closed my eyes against the sight of the carpeted floor, letting a ragged sigh escape my lips and dropping my head into the hand that wasn't barely holding on to the now superfluous gun. Turbulent emotions raged through my body, each more poisonous and virulent than the last… I dearly desired to hate myself for this.

I wanted to be able to ridicule my own name to kingdom come for abandoning her in favor of another woman… but I could not overcome the furious fire that rose within my blood as I thought more and more of what had been going on in my home without my knowledge, directed instead of at myself… but at Alora.

How dare she commit infidelity against our union… how dare she _turn_ on me! I had my own crimes, sure… but they did not begin to compare. No matter the fact that I had lusted for Sakura, I had never actually done anything that went against my vows. But she… _she_ had been having sex with another man, for _years_, and this was inexcusable.

I had given her everything she wanted, and yet she did _this_ to me.

Opening my eyes again, I raised my head and glared at the man still glued to the wall, resulting in him trying to shrink back into the plaster even more desperately. I calmly raised my empty hand and pointed at the door, looking away from him with disgust layering my gaze.

"Get out," I muttered monotonously, and he blinked at me incomprehensibly for a few seconds, completely taken aback.

"You're… you're letting me go? Just like that, yeah?" he queried suspiciously, and I looked back up at him, my eyes flashing dangerously.

"Would you rather I kill you instead?" I asked, standing slowly and meaningfully, and he answered by scrambling for the door, leaving nothing but disturbed air and a sour taste in my mouth in his wake.

The bedroom door slammed after his departure, and I stared at it for immeasurable minutes, just standing at the side of my bed and inspecting the painted wood as if some secret was imbedded within, as if the answer to the question "What was I going to do now?" was inscribed upon the surface. By the time that I realized that I would discover nothing from the inanimate object, my fury had grown exponentially, and when my eyes left the door that had so seamlessly held my attention, it turned to the framed picture I kept by the side of my bed, a photograph of my first day as a wedded man.

Alora looked so happy in my arms… so beautiful… was she already planning on betraying me? Was her mind already calculating how best to deceive, how to most easily twist the vows she had just made?

Every muscle in my body tense, I dropped the handgun to the floor numbly before slowly and precisely rounding the bed to stand before the portrait, gaze heavy and chest rising deeply in my rage. My hand trembled almost imperceptibly as I reached for the picture, fingers tight on the edge as I raised it to eye level. It remained there for a moment, printed eyes staring back into my own soulless and flat pair before my jaw clenched, teeth grinding unhealthily.

With a hateful snarl, the picture frame was sent flying across the room to smash against the wall beside my window, shattered glass and splintered wood spraying across the floor and bouncing onto the reading chair in the corner.

Shoulders heaving, I looked jerkily around and, sighting the graduation picture of my wife that hung beside the doorframe of my closet, stalked over to it and snatched it from its hook, throwing it to the ground while at the same time spewing profane curses at its crushed form.

This fit of temper was decidedly uncharacteristic and highly unnecessary, but I could not stop myself as I emptied my room of every reminder of my treasonous spouse, thereafter razing the rest of the house as well. By the time that I was done, glass, wood, and porcelain littered nearly every inch of the floor of my sizable apartment, pieces of torn paper and cotton stuffing floating on the angrily swirling air.

I had destroyed every vestige of her memory remaining in my home, but still… it was not enough.

My anger was unbound and multiplying… and I wasn't sure what I would do when it reached its peak. Would I lose all of my sense?

Would I harm my children?

The thought that I could even possibly lay a hand on my beloved progeny firmed my resolve, and I turned from the havoc I had wrecked and walked quickly through my destroyed living room and over to the dark hallway I had left not half an hour ago. My shoulders tight in my ever growing ire, I soon found myself in front of the closed and locked door of my office, rapping my knuckles impatiently against the wood the prescribed number of times.

My pique was well founded… the longer that I stayed here, the greater my rage would become. I had to get out of here before I did something I would truly regret.

The door was instantly unlocked and pulled open for me, the anxious eyes of my eldest son gazing up at me in the near darkness. He instantly launched into his customary questioning as I brushed past him, walking over to the fireplace and pacing in front of it with agitatedly long strides while considering what to do to not only help my children to avoid the brunt of my anger, but help myself as well.

"Did you get them, father? Who was it? Why were they here? Where were they…" he queried insistently, but I cut him off rudely, not at all in the mood to humor his curiosity.

"Quiet, Kenji," I ordered shortly, and was instantly answered with silence, his wide eyed bewilderment at my cold tone nearly making me flinch.

I turned away from him, staring bitterly into the fireplace and fingering the wedding ring still wrapped around my finger. This was why I had to get them away from me… it had only been a few seconds and I had snapped at my son already.

He did not deserve my injudicious irritation. It was not his fault that his mother had taken my last good memory of a peaceful home, my last chance at remembering a place that had stayed the same while I had changed ever so drastically, and crushed it as entirely as I had crushed everything she had once owned and been part of.

"Go pack your and your brother's backpacks with a day's worth of clothing. You are going to be staying the night with your grandparents." I muttered, gaze lingering on the glinting gold ring I held between my fingers, the firelight reflecting off of the surface as if hellfire raged within.

How incredibly fitting… our marriage was nothing but a curse from hell from the beginning as it was.

"But… but father, I thought that we were going to read chapter four together tonight… I don't want to go to Grandma's house; I want to stay with you…" I heard Kenji protest quietly from behind me, and before I could hold myself back, I had turned on him and glared down at him, lip curling.

"You will do as you are _told_, boy! I will not tolerate you talking back to me!" I snarled venomously, and he flinched back in fright, shoulders hunching as he cowered away from me with tears shining in his eyes.

As soon as I had realized what I was doing my annoyance faded, replaced by horror and chagrin over my words. Seeing my little boy cringing away from me was enough to remember myself, and I turned away again, closing my eyes and jerking my wedding ring off of my left ring finger harshly. "That was out of line, Kenji. I apologize. I am not myself right now… and you will have to forgive my abrasiveness. We will finish reading chapter four tomorrow night, I promise. Please go pack your things."

I heard Kenji sniffle quietly behind me before he came up and hugged my leg, making me jump slightly and look down at him. He was looking up at me trustingly, smiling despite the fearful tears still clinging to his youthfully long eyelashes.

"It's alright, father. I get sad sometimes too," he said softly before turning and walking over to Roku, picking him up with a little difficulty before slinging him over his back and carrying the still deeply slumbering toddler out of the room, closing the door behind him with a caring smile shot at me.

It would be weeks before I realized that, instead of assuming that I was angry, Kenji had recognized that I was sad.

Once my sons were gone I returned my gaze to my meaningless and useless wedding ring, turning it this way and that in the wan light I stood in. This was the last remnant of my relationship with my children's mother… the final representation I had of a marriage that housed more betrayal and heartache than should have ever been appropriated. I was free now. Free to forget my old relationship, free to move on, free to take Sakura as my own…

Eyes narrowing at the direction my thought process was taking, I dug my free hand into my pocket and withdrew my cell phone, flipping it open with an agitated wrist flick and pressing one of the speed dial numbers (I had purposefully chosen the eight, since turned sideways it looked similar to a fish and the comparison was one that the owner of the number detested more than anything else) before holding the device to my ear and waiting impatiently for my friend to answer.

Three dialing attempts and innumerable sighs later, he finally picked the phone up.

"'_Tachi! How can I help you tonight, my finely furred weasel friend?"_

I could have sworn the corner of my eye twitched the second that I heard his voice. "Kisame, I would thank you to remember that my name is _I_-tachi, not just 'Tachi, and that any public mention of the meaning of my given name will result in your immediate death. Now that that has been communicated..." I sighed deeply, beginning to pace once again while eying the ring of rapidly cooling gold in my hand with aversion. "I find myself in need of your assistance."

A snort of distinct and surprised amusement could be heard clearly through the speaker of the phone, and when Kisame spoke again, his hilarity was barely restrained. "_**You**__ need __**my**__ help? Woo, that's a first… but sure. Anything for you, man."_

Grimacing slightly at his flawless interpretation of my need, I swallowed my pride as best I could and pressed on, though kept my speech incredibly high level in hopes that my friend wasn't truly listening and would overlook the fact that I was in pain and needed to find an escape. "My requisite entails your presence and association with one of the lower class inebriation establishments offered by this city… I have discovered something detrimental in nature this evening and have no desire to remember it, or anything else, by the time the sun rises tomorrow morning."

Much to my discontent, he was in one of his rare considering moods and was actually paying attention.

"_You want to get wasted? __**At**__ a bar? Jesus Christ, what the hell happened, Itachi?"_ The concern in his voice was evident, and I knew that he was truly worried for me… but was it really all that selfish to want to keep the reason and depth of my troubles to myself? I had no desire to reveal what had happened to me… at least not yet. Perhaps someday I would speak of it, but for now…

"I would rather not say, Kisame, and I highly recommend dropping the subject. Now, are you free to join me?" I asked impatiently, despite already knowing his answer, and the predetermined response was practically shouted at me through the device held to my ear.

_"Am I free? To go to a bar? When am I too fucking __**busy**__? I'll be by your place in fifty, and we'll go hit up the town!"_

I looked down at my watch, being forced to squint through the darkness at the face of it before nodding, throwing the ring up in the air with my free hand while judging its weight critically.

"Very well. I will be leaving the finding of the bar up to you, so at least pretend to be classy, if you please. I have no desire to end up in an old speakeasy," I muttered crisply before ending the call, cutting off Kisame's squawk of protest with a bitter smirk gracing my lips.

Snapping the phone closed and slipping it back into my pocket (I had no need to contact my parents to tell them that my children were coming for the night, as my mother often lamented my bringing her only grandchildren by far too infrequently as it was), I mentally counted how much money I currently had in my wallet, as Kisame would more than likely be making use of my charity this evening and refuse to pay for anything out of his own pocket.

The thousand that I had in cash should be more than enough to cover whatever trouble he was considering getting into tonight and whatever alcohol I managed to find myself. The money order that I was holding for my cousin Shisui's down payment on his house (as he, rightly so, didn't trust himself to keep it and not somehow lose it) was still in my wallet, but I was unconcerned by its presence.

I would not drink so much that I would lose track of my sense and allow ten thousand dollars' removal from my person.

Satisfied by this, I turned back to the ring in my grip, once again staring at it resentfully and, at the same time, warily. What I had told Kisame about my desire to go clubbing with him was true; I did not wish to think about what I had discovered tonight any longer. The conflicting emotions of hate and remorse that I felt over it were too much to bear, added to the precarious pile of what I already felt.

I had been careful to avoid mentioning the less acceptable half of my reasoning, however… the very second that I had removed my wedding ring from my finger, with absolutely no intention of ever replacing it, the small, entirely forbidden part of my brain that enjoyed plaguing me with impossible dreams began to offer up feasible _possibilities._

Fantasies of finally being relieved of my loyalty to my deceased wife and going to fulfill my promise to my brother, taking what I desired from Sakura and receiving every ounce of the love that I so desperately craved from her.

I could drown my pain and loneliness in the curves of her body and the touch of her hand. I could find my peace in the press of her lips and the wave of her hair. I could have everything I had ever wanted, finally attained through the woman that consumed the greater part of my soul effortlessly and flawlessly, no matter how hard I tried to push her away, and I could be _happy_.

Obviously, the temptation of this notion was too much for me.

I could not afford to even think of the possibilities of such a tryst if I were to retain even an ounce of my remaining resolve. I could not bear the thoughts circulating in my turmoiled mind… and as such, I had come to the conclusion that, at least for the moment, I would not think at all. I would use any means necessary to wipe my mind of such things, and would once again turn to the comforting embrace of alcohol.

My scowl deepened as I thought of what I was being forced to do, the lengths I had to go to for peace of mind, and scoffed aloud. The method I had chosen was, perhaps, not the most intelligent of all options. It might not have been the only way I could have gone, or even the best direction… but at the moment, I really couldn't care less.

I was, in all honesty, tired of being so responsible and so candid and so god damn _good_. I had been doing the right things and pleasing others and giving my all every day of the thirty years I had been alive. Didn't I deserve to be able to, as they say, cut loose and have something for myself? Shouldn't I be able to be selfish, just once, and not feel bad about it?

Wasn't I just a man, wont to give way to human weakness and the need to find and obtain what I truly desired?

I immediately quashed that line of thinking, shying away from the considerations of obtaining my deepest desire in the arms of the young girl I loved, the promising reverberations of fulfilling lovemaking and the pleasing visions of flushed, bare skin and ruffled pink hair clouding my mind's eye the moment that I let the thought gain purchase.

This was the exact reason why I was avoiding the consideration and going out drinking with Kisame. What I wanted was wrong. I could not have it. Too much destruction had come of my desires, so I would push them aside and settle for what I could have with only a slightly heavy conscience… drunken oblivion.

Hearing the telltale clunks of bags and light footsteps on the stairs, I sent the ring in my grasp one last glare before tossing it lightly into the heart of the fireplace, watching the it fall into the hottest part of the flames with savage pleasure before turning my back and walking away, leaving one of my once most valued possessions to melt into a puddle on the bottom of the fireplace.

As long as we both shall live… apparently, it wasn't as lasting as I had once thought it was.

* * *

"Wake up, sir. We're here."

Six hours after discovering the infidelity of my wife, I cracked my eyes open groggily and stared up at the stained upholstery covering the roof of the taxi I was currently riding within, my eyesight blurry and my head swimming pleasingly. I had forgotten how incredibly wonderful being drunk felt… to have nothing on my mind but strangely engaging ponderings of how someone could have possibly gotten lipstick on the roof was a comforting change to constant worry and guilt and shame.

After a few moments wondering over the makeup markings, I turned my head to the side and looked through the clouded window separating myself and the taxi cab driver, grinning at him from my prone position on the back seat.

"Thank you very much. If there were more people like you in the world… it would be a better place," I muttered nostalgically, digging into my front pants pocket with a great deal of difficulty and retrieving the folded and crumpled twenty dollar bill contained within, thereafter sliding the money into the drawer stationed underneath the window.

It occurred to me to think that it was strange that I had been given the money before being packed into the taxi from the curbside of the club Kisame and I had been enjoying together, but I forgot my considerations the moment that I sat up, swaying slightly as I looked out the window at an incredibly familiar white picket fence instead of the sidewalk in front of my apartment building.

I frowned, turning to glance distrustfully at the cab driver (who was watching my antics with a great deal of amusement in his gaze).

"This isn't my house," I said slowly, pointing out the side window at the blue and white cottage beyond the aforementioned fence.

He raised his eyebrows, looking out the window as well before shaking his head, holding up a piece of torn paper that, if I squinted heavily, had horribly scrawled markings written on it. "This is 2409 Winchester Drive. The man you were with told me to take you here because, and I quote, "This is where you wanted to be anyway." Was he being an ass and gave me the wrong address on purpose?"

I sighed heavily, moving my hand up to pinch the bridge of my nose and almost poking myself in the eye instead. Yes, he had been being an ass. I remembered now, as I had drunk more and more alcohol, that I had lamented that I had not seen Sakura in so long and how much I wished that I could.

I had thought that I had only been discussing that with the bartender, the trio of strippers who decided it was their personal errand to try to affect me with their false bodies (I am still impressed at Kisame's daring in taking me to a strip club, considering how murderous I was feeling the instant I saw the lights he pulled up in front of), and the man seated beside me who was trying to get drunk just as desperately as I was, but I guess that Kisame had been being shrewd in between his seeking out pleasure with another of the strippers and had heard my mourning.

"Yes… but this is fine. My sister in law lives here," I said before struggling to crawl over the seat and open the car door, scrabbling with the handle for a few moments before finally getting it open and almost falling flat on my face when I did.

Recovering admirably with a sheepish grin aimed at the bemused man within the cab, I gave him a parting wave before turning to open the hip high gate, thereafter stumbling up the short sidewalk to the porch. Grabbing onto one of the whitewashed support posts to keep myself from falling again, I chuckled under my breath at my inept wanderings before glancing up at the sky, my gaze caught by the quarter moon visible against the city skyline.

It was a clear night, a few of the brighter stars shining their way through the cover of smog that hung perpetually over the city. The light from the moon was wan, but it gave enough of a glow to see that the dead, brown grass that waited patiently for summer's warm return had not been disturbed in quite some time, the hedges lining the border of the house wild and untrimmed.

If I had been in my right mind, this most likely would have held my attention and made me worry, but as it was, I merely thought on it for a second before being amused by the thought of how horrified any gardener would have been by the state of Sakura's flowerbeds.

Laughing quietly to myself, I slowly turned around and took the last few steps to the door, leaning against it heavily and staring dispassionately at the glowing button of the doorbell. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to disturb Sakura at this time of night… she might just assume that I was a robber or a rapist, trying to gain entrance to her home under the cover of night, and not even open the door.

It would be the smart thing to do, something that I would expect of a city wise woman (not to mention one that would be easily overpowered, should a man try to attack her), and I would presume no less from her. She was intelligent and would have taken my many warnings about safety to heart.

I shouldn't even try to bother her…

Thanks to my inebriation, however, I, in short order, found myself pressing the tip of my finger to the lighted switch, pushing the middle in once and then waiting impatiently for an answer to come. Normally, my tolerance would be far longer and more lasting, but the few seconds that I waited for a response seemed like an eternity.

After waiting what couldn't have been more than half a minute, I pressed my finger against the doorbell again, intolerantly ringing it a few more times than absolutely necessary before desisting and waiting again, a displeased and annoyed frown tilting my lips down. Why wasn't she answering?

A tinge of worry wormed its way into my head as I leaned my suddenly extremely heavy head against the wood of the door, and my eyebrows furrowed, seemingly, of their own accord. This was taking far too long, even for being in the middle of the night.

What if something had happened?

Her car was here, but that would mean little if she had not made it outside in time, should something have happened to her. What if she was hurt? Could she have fallen down the stairs, cut herself on a kitchen knife, sprained her ankle in the backyard? What if she was beyond help, lost to me in much the same way that my brother was?

Alarm racked my body at this last thought, and I, easily pushing aside the urgent reminder that I shouldn't care this much about why my sister in law wasn't answering the door at two in the morning, immediately began punching the doorbell's button in earnest, the pressure of my finger growing harder the more times that I pushed it. If she did not answer after a few minutes of incessant ringing, I would break the door down, security system or not.

I would not lose Sakura too, no matter the fact that I could and would not claim her for myself.

After a mere two or three seconds of ringing the bell with rigorous intent, the light beyond the door came on, shining dully through the stained glass decorating the door I was leaning on. The porch light was lit not long after, and I stopped ringing the doorbell in sobering relief. She was awake, well, and at the door, trying to see who it was that had woken her up.

She was safe.

I might have breathed easier, my heart returning to its normal pace and tempo, if the surface I had been using to hold myself up hadn't suddenly and unexpectedly been removed.

Moments after being satiated in my overwhelming (and disturbing, to the still rational section of my brain) worry, I found myself freefalling towards a very hard and very painful looking hardwood floor, nothing in the way of stopping me from getting a concussion but my far too slowly moving hands. I would not catch myself in time to stop my descent, this much was certain. For some reason, I just couldn't bring myself to care though.

I could think of nothing but the irony of the moment and couldn't help but be amused by the situation I found myself in.

I had been promising myself, for the better part of a month, that I would not fall prey to my unrighteous and humiliating desires and come to Sakura's home. Yet here I was, falling in every sense of the term, and I had, once again, come to this end by drinking.

Perhaps it was time to admit that alcohol was clearly not the answer to my problems and find another way to deal with my troubles.

Maybe I had been foolish to think that I could forget everything when I so obviously had not. It was possible, but I was having difficulty seeing anything wrong with my situation at the moment; inches from hitting the floor, my movement had been arrested by two thin, frail limbs, the slight weight of the girl whose home this was holding me up from crashing to the ground.

Gazing back at her from where she had been forced to drop me (I suspected that my greater weight and stature had made her immediately forget about trying to hold me up), head tilted back at an awkward angle, I could not help the smile that lifted my lips up.

The way that she stood there, leaning against the banister of the narrow staircase and running an errant hand across her forehead, brushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear as she looked me over… that confused pucker between her eyebrows and those damned crystalline, luminescent eyes that knew so much but acknowledged so little…

She was _beautiful_.

This was not truly a revelation, but in my state, I was taken completely aback. The hall light shining through her hair might have given her an divine glow that was unfamiliar to me… the fact that she was only wearing three inch long pink shorts and an extremely revealing white tank top that bared more of her skin to my greedy perusal than she should have willingly dared to might have left me in a drooling puddle where I lay on the ground… hell, it might have even been the length of time I had not seen her that made me realize it so explicitly in that moment.

But whatever the case, I very nearly lost my jaw to the same ground I had just been saved from not even seconds ago, and could not stop myself from staring hopelessly at her.

She didn't seem to notice my attentions, merely shaking her head, a small, amused smile tilting the edge of her mouth up a fraction, and letting out a barely audible laugh before speaking.

"Jesus, Itachi, what _happened_ to you? Why are you all dirty and, more importantly, here, at two in the morning?" she asked, her amusement over my condition apparent, but the moment that she spoke I was struck by how melodious her voice sounded. It really had been too long since we had been together… I had missed the sound of her voice and the tenor of her delight far too much.

How could I not let myself have this creature, so perfect, so unbelievably gorgeous, and so undeniably available… my train of thought escaped me before I even had a chance to stop it, and before I knew it, I was speaking, and only realized what I had said after blurting it out.

"Fucking hell… have I ever told you how beautiful you are? I've been a damn fool if I haven't."

I wanted to slam my palm to my mouth the instant that the words had left my lips.

What in the hell was I _doing_? Did I _want_ to awaken her awareness as to where my head was? God, I needed to get a grip on my tongue before I said something truly unforgivable. It was too late to retract my comment, and there was no foundation in hoping that she hadn't heard me or hadn't understood; she had flinched minutely at the foul curses I had let loose, unaccustomed to such language from me, and her cheeks had turned a light shade of pink in response to my praise of her beauty. Perhaps she would just ignore my remark and make life easier for both of us…

"Are you alright? You're not acting like yourself…" a small, nervous voice queried slowly, and I looked up at her in surprise as she edged around my body, stepping over my legs so that she could, presumably, shut the door and block out the chill breeze blowing along her empty street.

As I watched the bunching of muscle in her thigh when she passed over me, all anxiety over the suspicion in her voice disappeared, replaced with the singular want to feel what that untainted, smooth skin felt like beneath my fingers. Liberated from the burden of weighty guilt and duty, I allowed my hand to inch up and trail along her pale leg, nearly having to bite my lip to keep from saying something I would regret concerning a potential continuation of my molestation, only in a much more intimate fashion.

Her skin could only be compared to the softest of velvets, the finest of silks. Such a thing should be impossible… but I could not get enough of it. It had been a mistake to touch her like this… I would never be able to get this feeling out of mind, from underneath my own skin, and I had, potentially, ruined any chance of ever wanting another woman's touch over hers, should such a thing have been possible in the first place.

It was cruel to contemplate, however. Sakura was not mine for the taking, I had to remember that. I could allow this slip, since I was not in a right state of mind and such a thing would be excused once explained, but this would be the only time.

No more mistakes.

I had to say something though, I realized when she turned to look at me once the front door was shut, since I couldn't just feel up her leg and ignore her question, and as such gave her as close to the truth as I could.

"I'm more than alright… I feel fucking _excellent_ right now. I've been out drinking all night, I can't remember shit, and I've got a beautiful, half-naked woman concerned for my health. I'm doing just great," I muttered, shrugging slightly and inwardly slapping myself for cursing again, and with a slight sigh, Sakura obviously accepted my reasoning as to why I was acting as I was, her eyes moving up to gaze at the ceiling as if it could offer some sort of condolence before she brushed my hand away from where it was lingering on her thigh, the offending appendage then extending so that she could help me regain my feet.

I scowled slightly at being denied the heavenly texture of her skin before grasping her hand and heaving myself to my feet, unfortunately being hit by a wave of vertigo upon doing so and stumbling sideways into the coatrack. I had to laugh at myself as I clung desperately to it so as not to fall again; this situation was absolutely ridiculous. What had Kisame been thinking, sending me _here_ like this? He knew better than most that I had meant for my state to be a secret…

He would pay dearly for his indiscretion if I made more of a fool of myself than I already was.

Sakura stepping close to me with a warily amused expression caught my attention away from my drunken musings, and I smiled at her worry over me halfheartedly. "Whoa… a little off balance there. Let's sit you down and get you something to eat, huh?" she said as she dragged one of my arms over her shoulders, gently placing her other hand around my waist and leading me towards the still darkened living room.

I had no real desire to eat, sit, or do anything that would separate her from my side, but since she seemed concerned about my stomach being upset by my alcoholic imbibing, I decided it would be best to humor her and avoid setting her off into an overprotective rage, nodding mutely as she flipped the overhead light on and led me over to the blue and grey suede couch Sakura loved and everyone else in the world hated (Sasuke had told me, more than once, that the incredibly ugly piece of furniture was going to, someday, have an "accident" involving the feral cat living in the backyard, a whole pot of coffee, and several small explosive fireworks).

She was prone to such fits when she was worried for her friends' health, and I was in no condition to fend off any accusations or sustain an argument.

I allowed her to push me down onto the material of the sofa grudgingly, lying down as she directed and then watching as she retreated to the kitchen to, presumably, fetch something to settle my stomach. Folding my arms comfortably while awaiting her return, I gazed around the room restlessly, eyes settling on a sizable pile of unopened letters on the coffee table beside me. I tilted my head to the side, eyebrows furrowing and heavy eyelids blinking in my confusion. That was strange…

Sakura was usually very good about opening mail…

Sending a quick glance at the now lit doorway Sakura had disappeared through, I reached over and grabbed the top ten envelopes, sorting through them quickly and finding what I had thought that I would. Only the bills were opened, the rest letters from friends and family or cards intended to convey good wishes.

Eyebrows still drawn together, I set the stack back on the table and lay back just as Sakura reentered with a glass of ice water and a plate of saltine crackers in tow, a doting smile lifting her face as she looked me over before having me sit up a little, helping me do as she commanded and eat and drink without spilling everywhere.

Such actions required little thought, and as such I had plenty of consideration to spare for my discovery, a blank and carefree smile disguising my distraction. What did her ignoring well wishes and friendly offers of condolence infer? Was she unaware of what these letters contained… or was she disregarding them on purpose, having sunk even farther into her depression than I had unknowingly feared?

I highly doubted that she had not had time to open them, or had been too distracted to bother with them… I would have to explore this further.

My conscience was protesting heavily against planning obviously unwanted involvement in Sakura's business, warning about getting too close to the woman when I was as unstable as I was, but I ignored the advice, at least for now.

After all, what harm could come from a simple investigation?

A feather light caress on my cheek drew my attention away from my musings and over to the woman kneeling at my side, who was looking me over with a sad look in her eyes, gaze flicking over my appearance with disapproval clearly written on her face.

"What were you thinking, Itachi? This isn't the way to deal with losing Alora and Sasuke… you have children to care for, an enormous reputation to uphold… you have responsibilities and you can't just do things like get drunk in public," she chided lightly, and the smile I had kept up for appearances slipped down into nonexistence.

I had to turn away and look at the ceiling to avoid the disappointment in her gaze, unable to handle the accusation in the emotion as well as her words, and I ran a frustrated hand through my hair, surprised to find that it was in an unbelievably tangled state before I turned my attention to Sakura's questioning.

She had it all wrong. I would not have turned to the bottle in sorrow; I was stronger than that, and had no real desire to have such a thing become an addiction. I already had one of those, and weaning myself away from one was wearying enough. It discomfited me upon realizing that she thought I had become a drunk over such a wan emotion as _grief_, but she had enough reason to think that, so I left the factual argument bubbling inside of me where it was and acquiesced to Sakura's line of thinking.

"I know that," I quantified shortly, eyeing the spackling sticking out from the ceiling and inspecting the slowly spinning shadows cast by the rotating fan blades in the center of the room. I knew perfectly well what was expected of me, as one of my station and rank, and had been careful to make sure that no one had known where I had been going tonight besides Kisame, even my parents.

A few of the local tabloids had a certain obsession with trying to smear my name, and my evening at the Sapphire Cheetah's Club would have given them more than enough evidence to feed their imaginations and to fill their pages.

A quick glance at Sakura from the corner of my eye evidenced that she was expecting more from me, and I let out a sigh so quiet it would have gone unnoticed by even me. I should trust her with my discovery… but I could not find it anywhere within myself to even think of it, much less speak about it. I would tell her as much as I could, but… I could not let her know that her friend had been a traitorous, conniving bitch.

It seemed… low.

"It's just… I couldn't take it anymore. It was so hard already, and then… I just can't handle the memories anymore. All I can think of is what I could have done differently. What if I had tried harder? What if I had found out earlier?" There… that should be enough mention of Alora's infidelity. Now to reinforce the notion that I had done what I had in an effort to escape my sorrow… "What if I hadn't let them go when I knew it was raining so hard? What if I had gone with Sasuke instead? What if, what if, what if…" I trailed off while absentmindedly twirling one of the strands of tangled hair that I had accidentally dragged from my ponytail around my finger, satisfied and yet at the same time uncomfortable with my level of detail. It was enough to satiate her curiosity, hopefully, but I had left many open ends within my explanation, and if she were to be shrewd enough to question me further, I would be forced to lie.

I did not wish to commit such a crime against our friendship.

The cursory glance I threw her showed that she had not caught my half assed attempt at truth, and so I turned over to face her, pleased at my trickery. Unfortunately, this caused her to suddenly remember that her fingers were still tracing along my jawline and made her pull back, dropping her hand into her lap almost unconsciously. Annoyed by the loss of contact, I reached out and reestablished our joining myself, cupping her cheek and stroking it gently, content with the gentleness of the motion and the calm of the situation.

Moments like this were so few between us… that was, truly, how it should be, but I still cherished every single one that had ever happened. When she had cut her finger on a piece of broken glass and allowed me to bandage it for her… when we had spent a sun warmed afternoon in a small park with only Kenji keeping our attention completely from each other… when she had leaned on my shoulder and hugged my arm during a particularly frightening scene in a movie we were watching… all treasured and irreplaceable memories, soft with caring and affection and meaning.

Why had fate's design made it so hard for us to be together?

Bitterness weighted down the remembrance of happier times, and I scoffed inwardly. I was not meant to have her, that was why. She deserved better than me. Heart sinking, I continued on, answering the question her eyes asked of me.

"I couldn't take it anymore, so I went with what I thought would be the easiest way to forget. I left the kids with my parents, went out to a bar with Kisame, and got fucking shitfaced," I stated simply, watching her expression and sighing over my inability to speak without cursing while intoxicated.

Perhaps that was what prevented Hidan from speaking like a normal human being… he was constantly drunk.

I laughed quietly to myself before being distracted by the look she was wearing; she was watching me with widened eyes, sitting stiff and unmoving while my fingers traced over the skin beside her lips. She looked the way that a virgin would when touched for the first time by a man, inexperienced and wary and yet… desirous as well.

It was fair to say that the last of my reason flew from me with such thought.

I immediately wondered why I was going to such ridiculous lengths to avoid this. What detriment could come from my taking of this woman child? It was not as though I would harm her… far from it. I would be able to give her everything she had ever desired in the way of sex, companionship, and family. She would want for nothing. Besides, did I not claim to love her? When had that become conditional? I should give her my heart, and everything else that I possessed, just in hopes of having my attentions returned in the same fashion.

What had been going through my mind that had stopped me from doing so?

I could think of nothing that answered that question. There was no reason, besides duty that was nonexistent at present and family who had passed on. Why shouldn't I have what I wanted? I should… I could… and I would. A dark, evil presence let out a cackle from deep within, and a sinister, coquettish grin lifted my mouth up.

She would be mine if I had anything to say about it… and I had much to say.

"I think I could get used to this, actually. Inhibitions just seem to float away…" I admitted, adding an alluring lilt to my voice and moving my hand over a few inches so that my questing thumb flicked over her lower lip, reveling in the widening of her still innocent eyes and in the softness of her rose petal lips. To feel them meshed with my own… to know their flavor, and that of what lay beyond them…

I would know. I had to. I felt as if I would die if I did not.

Unfortunately, Sakura's inaction had found its end, and with a slight, highly enticing blush rising to grace her cheeks, she pulled away from my touch and sat back, looking both embarrassed by my action and reproving of my daring at the same time. This was only disconcerting for a moment; I would not expect her to be immediately ready for my advances. She was not that sort of woman. Of course she would resist in the beginning… but soon enough, if I presented the obviousness of my desire and the depth of my devotion, she would open to me and I would have her. Patience was required…

It was unfortunate that my drunken state had stolen away most of that.

It seemed incredibly sudden when she rose to her feet beside me, and I nearly cricked my neck whipping my head around trying to see what she was doing. She couldn't be thinking of running from me… I had done nothing so deserving of that… yet. Her intention was made obvious when she leaned over me to pick up the now empty plate I had rested on my other side when I rolled over, however; she was merely gathering up the dishes she had used while ensuring that I was well.

I would have been willing to let such a thing pass without much notice if she hadn't, as she had leaned farther over me to reach for my water glass, suddenly wrinkled her nose and flinched back, looking down at me like I had deeply offended her somehow. What was the matter now? I was sure that I didn't necessarily smell like I had just stepped from the shower, but I couldn't be that bad. _I_ hadn't been having sex with entirely random strippers tonight, unlike some people I could very easily mention.

I needn't have worried over the consideration, as she was about to reveal the reason for her obvious distaste over my aroma.

"God… what in the world did you drink, Itachi? You smell like you bathed in a vat of undiluted Absinthe," she choked out, putting her nose in the crook of her arm and leaning away exaggeratedly, nearly making me roll my eyes.

Sometimes she dramatized things so ridiculously out of proportion…

Her question raised queries of my own, however, and I raised a hand to scratch at my scalp, trying to think back to what the bottle I had emptied had written on the label. After a few moments of achieving nothing but hazily recalled memories of half-dressed whores hanging all over me and a constantly empty glass gripped tightly in my fist, I shrugged and beat back a sudden yawn, afterwards deciding to make another attempt at taking a step forward with her and reaching out to her imploringly, obviously asking for her to seat herself with me on the couch.

"Hell if I know. I just know that it was fucking awesome and I want some more." She appeared enlightened and at the same time exasperated by my explanation, but made no move to acknowledge my extended hands, and I frowned slightly. She was making this very difficult… had she been like this with Sasuke?

I seemed to remember my brother sighing over how unresponsive she was in the first few months of their relationship… but I had no desire to wait that long. Even a few days seemed a hardship. Determined to gain what I wanted, I insistently kept my hands up, adding a command to my action this time. "Come here."

She didn't seem to realize that it had not been a request, because almost immediately following my order, she reseated herself on the floor with a flourish, giving me a pointed look that very obviously said, "No".

Thoroughly put out by her gallantry, I dropped my arms in defeat and scoffed silently. Infuriating woman… perhaps I was being too subtle. Did she require much more obvious displays of attraction in order to win her over? It seemed so… I immediately put aside my thoughts in favor of accepting the gesture Sakura took the opportunity to offer at that moment, however; most likely as a proposal of appeasement, she had extended her hand to me, expression pitying and understanding.

She should not have pitied me, truly; my desire for contact was not what she thought it was, and I shouldn't have used her blind trust in me for my own good. But I had been doing a lot of things I shouldn't have for a very long time, and the little amount of remaining humanity I usually held onto had disappeared with the copious drinking I had engaged in this evening, and as such… I am sure I need not elaborate.

Her allowment was accepted directly, my hands greedy as they snatched hers up, dragging it as close to my chest as was comfortably permissible, fingers stroking along the thinness of her wrist and the softness of her palm gently. I would take what I could get, for the moment… no need to rush things.

We had all night.

She seemed amused by my action, laughing quietly and shaking her head before setting the plate she had successfully obtained from me down on the coffee table and scooting closer so that her arm wasn't stretched out so far, settling her chin on her other hand and looking over me with a half-smile.

"Well… let's try to remember together, alright? Where did you go and how much did you spend?" she asked slowly, probing me encouragingly with a soft tenor to her words, and somewhere deep inside, the impatient, insatiable part of me that longed for this woman's body without reproach roared in frustration.

She was wasting my time with meaningless inquisitions and queries. I did not care about how much money I had spent trying to forget what had happened to me. I did not need help remembering something that would make no difference in the outcome of our early morning meeting… she was only prolonging the inevitable. Coy little minx…

I sniffed silently, settling back into the cushions of the sofa I lay on comfortably. Very well. Let her ask her questions and satiate her curiosity.

She would have no excuses to delay me when the time came, though. I would not allow it.

In answer to Sakura's question, I arched my hips up and dug my hand into my back pocket, feeling around for a moment before catching hold of my wallet and withdrawing it, thereafter throwing it into her lap.

"Me and Kisame went to the Sapphire Cheetah's Club, but I don't have a clue how much we spent," I stated blandly, declining to release Sakura's hand when she tried to tug it from my grip so she could catch my wallet.

I spoke the honest truth; by the time we had made it to the club, I had been so angry that I had not cared about anything but getting my hands around the neck of a bottle, so I had let Kisame take care of handling our bills and had given him my wallet without question. Now that I thought about it, that may not have been the best thing to do, especially with my cousin's money laying within…

It would be just like Kisame to take advantage of it.

Distrust and unease crept up my spine, and my eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "How much is in my wallet?" I asked carefully, and with a barely audible sigh Sakura stopped trying to free her hand from mine and picked my wallet up with her free hand, flipping it open dexterously and looking inside cursorily. I was not encouraged by her expression when she looked back up at me with confused amusement, holding the billfold oven and showing me its complete emptiness.

"Nothing is in here," she said, and I raised my eyebrows before letting them fall back to their designated places and shrugging.

"It would appear that we spent about eleven thousand dollars then," I said with little interest on the matter, pulling her hand up and pressing my lips lingeringly to each of her fingertips while watching her reaction from the corner of my eye expectantly. I had, somewhere within myself, expected that he had taken the money order when he started taking advantage of the club's less… illustrious services. He was not one to incur debt when he didn't have the money to pay for it… how annoying. I was going to have to pay for Shisui's house out of my own pocket now.

It was a good thing I had a knack for predicting stock market trends.

I was largely unmoved, for the moment, by my monetary loss; I was concentrating heavily on trying to get Sakura to react to my advances. Besides the return of the alluring blush to her cheeks, she seemed completely unaffected by the intimacy of my action; she seemed more taken by my comment, truth be told.

Her jaw dropped open and her eyes widened even further than they had earlier in response to my remark, looking as though I had delivered an impossible answer to an incredibly simple question.

"You went to a strip club and spent eleven _thousand_ dollars? How? Did you drink every drop of alcohol they had and get fifty lap dances?" she screeched incredulously, and my head protested the intensity of her voice immediately, making me cringe back slightly and shake my head to clear the pain of the throbbing her tone induced.

_Christ_, woman… no need to shriek.

Once I had recovered from her abrupt freak out, the absurdity of her questions struck me all at once. Naturally, she would not know the intricacies of such a thing as strip clubs. She was a proper woman, one who had probably never even set foot within such a place, much less actually knew about any of the inner workings of one.

I myself was not one to frequent them, but I had knowledge of their mechanisms from my earlier years, as well as from some of the investigations I had been forced into in my line of work, and as such was not blind to how my money had been spent. I couldn't have expected her to know what my partner and longtime friend had been doing tonight, or who, but I could not resist the opportunity to tease her, now that I was presented with the occasion. I never could; she was just too naïve and so easily fooled.

As such, I fixed her with an exasperated and saddened look, shaking my head forlornly and tsking my tongue. "Even after being married to my brother you are still so innocent… the Sapphire Cheetah's Club isn't necessarily the classiest establishment in the whole city…" I stopped strategically, raising an eyebrow suggestively. "And for the right price, you can book a back room to indulge in the less acceptable acts of male fantasies."

I couldn't have possibly expected her reaction to my mocking.

It was as if I had personally and mortally offended her, the way she ripped her hand out of my grip and glared down at me with all her strength. Her entire body bristled with unbridled fury, unholy fire raging in her hardened eyes and steaming from her flared nostrils.

"I swear to god that I will put you out of my home flat on your ass if you give me the wrong answer to my next question, Itachi," she seethed, sitting forward and locking gazes with me like this was the most important question she had ever asked of me. What in the world had possessed her so passionately? I truly could not even begin to guess…

"Did you have sex with a stripper tonight?"

Any reaction I could have made was stripped from me the moment the words left her frowning lips. I couldn't comprehend what she meant by that for the life of me. She couldn't honestly think that I would do such a thing. I was not an idiot; I knew what kind of diseases those whores carried. Besides, I was not a sex craving individual like, seemingly, every single other member of my sex was; the only person I was weak concerning was her.

I had a certain amount of control regarding such dealings; if every woman who I considered attractive or tried to woo me ended up in my bed, there would be a line to my bedroom that went down the stairs and out the front door of my apartment.

I was not vain or particularly prideful about my appearance; it was simply the truth.

The sheer ludicrousness of her obvious belief in my sexual interests, especially with how I felt at the moment, tore a chest rattling and incredibly satisfying laugh from me, tears of mirth nearly rising to my eyes at the utter _irony_.

God, if she only knew how wrong she was… that would definitely wipe that look from her face.

After thoroughly enjoying a few moments of uninterrupted hilarity, I raised my eyebrows and looked at her with exaggerated expectance. "_Me_? Come on, Sakura; you know me better than that…" I admonished, reaching over to her and brushing back a lock of hair that had fallen out of place in her ire, replacing it behind her ear and casually propping my foot up on the back of her god awful sofa.

Playfulness was overcoming my shock at her assumption quickly, and another evil grin overwhelmed my reproach. "It's only been four weeks since Alora died… I would have to wait at least five before I got that desperate. And besides…" I trailed off, leaning down boldly and quickly pressing soft, barely contacting kisses to each of her cheeks.

"Why would I turn to a paid whore when there are _much_ better choices much closer to home?"

My answer was getting pushed back into my former spot on the couch, as well as a blush so dark it rivaled her hair. She seemed to struggle with regaining her composure for a few moments while I looked on with barely restrained hunger, begging for her to say something about my more than blatant coup.

She couldn't possibly ignore that one… a man she had known for more than five years had just told her, in not so many words, that he desired her. That wasn't something a person could just overlook…

I was wrong, apparently, because after successfully forcing back the blush that had risen in response to my flirting, she cleared her throat and looked back at me, determinately meeting my eyes despite her embarrassment.

"So why did you say that if you didn't do it? What did you spend the money on?" she asked forcefully, obviously directing the subject back on track and putting the metaphorical conversational ball back in her court.

Confounded girl… why was she so _stubborn_?

Ah, well. There was no real point in fighting it, I suppose… there _was_ merit in going along with it, however. With the family smirk gracing my mouth, I reached down and grabbed her hand again, reclaiming the appendage and clasping it close to my chest once more. She glared at me for the maneuver, but I merely returned her heated look with one of my own.

"I didn't spend a cent of it myself. I spent the whole night at the bar in the club, drowning in something very strong and incredibly delicious while Kisame spent a great deal of my money on a midget stripper that took his fancy. He indulged in the pleasures of one of the back rooms and then, when he was supposed to be taking me home, he got me a cab and sent me on my way with twenty dollars in my hand while he went home with the rest of my money and a hooker he found outside the club," I deadpanned morosely, eye twitching as I recalled more and more of the missing pieces of my evening. I wasn't sure what I was going to do to my friend for his thievery and his "help"…

But I'm sure it was going to be painful.

She appeared appeased by my accounting, laughing sympathetically as she stood and, using the hand I had stolen from her, pulled me up as well. Taking this as a sign that she was ready to relocate to somewhere more comfortable, I slung my arm around her shoulders as lightly as I could, trying to hold my own weight as she began to walk carefully.

"I'm sure he will wish he hadn't ripped you off when you're sober. At least you had fun though, right?" she said, looking at me sideways while laboring beneath my mass, and I snorted bitterly, rolling my eyes and glaring at nothing in particular. She was correct… he would regret it with all his being.

He had given me an evening that I had enjoyed wasting away, to be sure… I had gotten to be with my beautiful sister in law again, after being away from her for so long… maybe I had more to thank him for than I realized. That didn't change the fact that he had taken my money and was, as we spoke, more than likely enjoying the pleasures of at least two women while I labored to gain more than a platonic smile from just _one_…

Life was most cruel.

Exasperated and tired of beating around the bush, I decided the time for being subtle was long past. As such, while Sakura was preoccupied with trying to find a good position with which to hold me up without being crushed, I leaned down and purposefully blew cold air across the sensitive skin of her ear and neck as I spoke, trying my damnedest to get her to acknowledge my want without outright groping her.

"Humph. _Kisame_ gets to have fun all night long. I want to have fun all night too…"

I was perfectly aware of how childish I sounded as I practically whined at her, but I did not care, not with how well she responded to my lips brushing against the shell of her ear and my breath moving across her flesh. She trembled deliciously beneath my arm, the blush returning full force and her eyes turning downwards, discomfiture coloring her gaze and making my lust soar.

Surely _now_ she would see. Now she would _have_ to say something, realize that it was her that I wanted, _see_ that I desired nothing more than to make love to her until my body failed and I could no more.

I, personally, believe that I was entitled to my irritation as I was proved wrong _again_.

Infuriatingly, I received nothing but those reactions from her for my efforts, her arm making its way around my waist and fingers digging under my belt so she could continue to move me to only she and god knew where. The blush faded, her embarrassment waned, and her determined yet kind demeanor returned only seconds after my attempt.

"I'm sure there are more than enough girls that would be more than willing to help you out with that. But before you go out and find one of them, I'm going to take you home and help you get better. Alright?" she asked softly, pulling the front door open with her free hand and beginning to pull me outside into the night, and I was about to begin to complain about her blindly assuming that I would _want_ to find someone besides her to "help me out" when I comprehended the second part of her statement, and I froze.

_No_… she couldn't see my home as it was. She couldn't know how I had lost control, blindly destroyed so much in a incomprehensive rage, cursed the name of a woman that still stood blameless in her eyes… she must never know. She would not understand, since I had not explained it. She would think I was lying, after seeing it and having me explain afterwards. She would think the worst of me, lose her respect for me… hate me… I could not allow it.

Besides, I myself was not ready to look at it again so soon. Anger at Alora still bubbled beneath the surface of my skin, ready to emerge the moment that I thought about it too hard, and being reminded inescapably was not something I would be able to handle as I was. What would I do to Sakura if I lost my control while it was just me and her, alone in that hateful place? I could scare her, hurt her…

Take what I desired when she didn't want it…

Just imagining that I could possibly, in my rage, rape the woman that I loved firmed my resolve that I must _not_ leave, not yet, and I immediately planted my feet and stopped moving, removing my arm from around Sakura's shoulders and grabbing onto the doorframe with both hands desperately. Even the vague potential of such an occurrence could not be chanced, and I could not trust myself in this state.

I would do whatever I had to do to stop it… even lie.

"No… no, no, no, no, no…" I pleaded, looking down at her earnestly in the pale light shining from her porch light. "Sakura, please don't make me. I can't go back tonight. I can't stand it… god, just thinking of being around all the… regrets, and… secrets, and… what if the kids saw me like this? I can't… please… can I stay here? Just for tonight?"

I should have expected the understanding and caring that weighed down her expression, the careful and light hand pressing on my chest that lead me back inside her home, her comforting but uncomprehended response as she shut the door and locked it behind her before replacing my arm back around her shoulders, slowly guiding me back down the hallway.

I should have known she would accept my lies and my pretended excuses, but all I could grasp at the moment was relief for the avoided disaster and disgust for myself. I so hated lying to my family, to my friends, for the sake of this forbidden and monumental secret of mine. I had always loathed being forced to… but there was no feeling that could describe the odium I felt for myself as I had done the same to Sakura.

I had _never_ lied to her before.

I had been careful to avoid it, so that she could be different than everyone else. So that she would never have to feel like she had any reason not to trust me completely. All those years of sharing and deliberately trying and _caring_…

Destroyed in one fell swoop.

Detesting myself even more would do no good, however, so I might as well take advantage of her hospitality and the obvious acquiescence in her movements. She was going to let me stay the night, until I got "better". Perhaps, if I made my desires even _more_ obvious, I would not have to spend the night alone… pressing back my despondency with a forceful shove, I smirked lightly and leaned down to press my lips to her neck, mumbling grateful thank you's into her flesh as she led me in the direction of the staircase. She had no need to know that my thanks were not only for being able to stay the night…

That would be for me to know, and to potentially have her discover sometime tonight.

I, once again, had my advance ignored, her jaw set determinately as she began to drag me slowly up the stairs, encouraging my movements in following her with unknowing temptation provided by her supple and full female form.

I had never seen her in such a state of undress, and having her so close, so bare… so vulnerable… it was quickly becoming my undoing. I could not stop my covetous hand's explorations as it constantly made efforts to grasp the fullness of her breasts while ascending the stairwell, undeterred by Sakura attempting to deflect my movements, and I could not force myself to desist as I time and again nosed the crook of her neck gently, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and the smell of her herself over and over. I did not see how she could continue to simply ignore my maneuvers so easily… surely she could see what I wanted.

She could not be as disillusioned as she was pretending… that wouldn't even be cute. It would be downright dangerous.

Nevertheless, as I was otherwise occupied, I did not notice that, while I was sniffing Sakura's hair and attempting to grope her unabashedly, she had been making her way to her bedroom. I certainly became aware when I was unceremoniously pushed sideways and onto the rumpled covers, however, and looked up at her in surprise.

She obviously wished for me to sleep in her bed… and she didn't seem to be going anywhere.

Had I been wrong? Had she been aware of my intentions, and was about to answer them in a positive and potentially gratifying manner? I could only hope… optimistic of the prospect of the situation, I sent the preoccupied looking woman standing over me as seductive a look as I could manage.

"And here I was thinking that you were the submissive type… my mistake. Alright, we'll do it your way this time, but the next round is all mine," I muttered unabashedly, biting at my lower lip and obviously dragging my eyes down her body, not pretending an iota of my interest. There was so very much to be explored with her… so many things I had dreamed of doing to her. So many things I had imagined taking.

God, if only time meant nothing.

I was distracted from my lecherous perusal of her body by an amused laugh, looking up to see Sakura shaking her head and rolling her eyes. Did she think that I was jesting? I had been completely serious. Sighing as her mirth faded, she smiled down at me patiently.

"Itachi, stop it. You need to get to sleep. Now listen; you are going to stay here, in this bedroom, until you feel better. The bathroom," she said slowly, pointing over the bed to the door that led to the bathroom, and I fought the urge to growl. I knew where the bathroom was, and I did not care for her pushing my offer away so casually.

"Is right there. You go in there if you feel sick or need to use the bathroom. There is a glass for water and a bottle of Excedrin in the cabinet over the toilet for in the morning. I will be downstairs on the couch if you need me. Don't be afraid to wake me up, alright?" she finished, already backing away a step towards the bedroom door, and distress racked me, making me sit up on my elbows and look after her.

She wasn't intending to stay? But… she _had_ to know that I wanted her. She couldn't be that blind. Or… was it that she didn't want me?

Rejection threatened its venomous sting, and in an attempt to avoid it, I blurted out an objection to her backwards motion desperately.

"What, you aren't going to join me?" I asked, forcing all of my hurt and confusion and distress into my voice, but immediately wished that I hadn't said anything. An expression of such pain and heartache came over her that my breath was nearly stolen from me, shock over her reaction instantly causing regret to rear its head. What had I said that had triggered such a reaction?

Surely… surely my offer was not something that could cause her such agony as this.

"That hurts, Itachi," her broken voice whispered from her position across from me, and as her hands moved up to clasp at her chest, my eye was caught by the glint of fine metal. I took a closer look, focusing on her left hand… and reeled back, self-depreciation washing over me. I was such a fool… I should have realized that she had reason to ignore my advances. I should have _seen_ that she was merely acting as any responsible, married woman would…

She was still wearing her wedding ring.

No wonder she had not reacted. I should have expected this from her… that she would not let go of Sasuke once he had passed on. That she would remain true in every sense of the term, and still I had made moves on her. She must have excused them because of my drunken state, assuming that I had not known what I was doing.

That I was lost to the alcohol I had consumed.

This might have been partially true; I could only imagine my horror in the morning as I relived the atrocities of my actions. There was part of me, however, that had wanted her to come to me. To drown her pain with me… to heal her broken heart within my arms. This part of me was not a section that reacted only to alcohol, coming alive when I was my weakest.

It was always there, the traitorous and wretched thing that I called my heart… and that part was aching now, as I learned that I would always come second to the woman I had lost myself to.

I would _never _have her regard.

She spoke of the pain I had caused her… and perhaps she knew it well enough to say. But she had caused me enough herself that I barely felt repentant. I wanted nothing more than to tell her how much she had hurt _me_ over the years, with denial and ignorance and oblivion… but I could not. She did not deserve such accusations. I was the one to be incriminated in this situation, and I would accept my punishment.

Such thought could wait, however… I had a mess to clean up.

Heavily feigning remorse, I closed my eyes against the sight of her agony and allowed my arms to collapse underneath my weight, falling backwards onto the bed with a slight oof.

"Oh, god. I'm such a fucking idiot when I drink… I'm so sorry, Sakura," I lamented, looking down my prone body at her, and with a seemingly massive amount of effort, she sent me a pained smile, shaking her head and waving a hand through the air in effigy of wiping my former comment from existence.

"It's alright, Itachi… I blame the booze, not you. Now you sleep, ok?" she commanded gently, obviously still worried about my state, and I fell still, looking over her sadly.

She really was too forgiving. I myself would not have absolved such a comment so quickly, had it been placed to me in the same manner. Being drunk was no excuse for something like what I had said… she was too good of a person to be allowed.

It was so hard to be angry with her… even if I had wanted to be.

Sending her a short nod, I sat up and began to untuck my halfway tucked in shirt as a sign that I wanted her to leave, kicking off my shoes at the same time. I had no desire to go to sleep, but it would be the easiest way to while away the time until sobriety once again became my companion. I no longer wished to be possessed by this demon… and sleep was the only escape at this point.

She acquiesced to my silent dismissal without comment, backing out of the room and shutting off the light before closing the door. I continued to undress, throwing my soiled and rumpled clothes onto the floor uncaringly while listening to Sakura's footsteps, her light gait moving down the staircase and onto the lower level where, as she had explained, she intended to rest on the sofa I had just vacated.

It was to her credit that she had sacrificed her own bed for my well-being… but I wished to think no more of Sakura's more commendable traits. I wanted to escape this world… at least for now.

As such, I discarded the last of the clothes that I dared take off in another's home, climbed into the still warm sheets of another's bed, and dropped almost immediately to sleep, reveling in the first dreamless sleep I had enjoyed in more than two years.

* * *

The first thing that I noticed when I woke the next morning, sunlight spilling through the window above the bed's headboard and birds making an unbearable racket in the trees outside the aforementioned window, was the fact that I had no idea where I was. I could tell, from the feeling of the mattress beneath me and the texture of the sheets around me, that I was not in my bed, nor one of my son's, and as such immediately went on my guard, snapping my eyes open and coiling my limbs in preparation for a fight.

The light filtering through the slits of the venetian blinds behind me lit the room I was contained in well, spilling across the floor and a small pile of clothing clumped together at the foot of the bed, creeping slowly up the wall across from me and illuminating a framed picture of the Paris skyline, a picture that was incredibly familiar…

Eyebrows furrowing, I sat up quickly and took further stock of my location, gaze flickering over a writing desk with a dusty and untouched laptop resting on top, the slightly ajar door of a closet that obviously contained a woman's wardrobe, and a flashing red forty-eight emanating from the answering machine on the small table beside me, nearly hidden beneath used and balled up Kleenex, several sleeping pill bottles, and a discarded book titled Untimely Abortions and Their Causes.

Quickly putting two and two together, I relaxed and sat back against the headboard behind me, allowing my eyes to close for a moment while I soaked in my situation. I recognized where I was now… I was in my sister in law's bed, for one reason or another. I had only been in her room a few times after it had been decorated, which explained why I hadn't immediately realized where I was… but that didn't explain why I was here in the first place.

How had I come to be here?

Yawning widely and rubbing the back of my hand against my eyes, I attempted to think back to last night as best I could, stretching as I did so. I remembered that I had discovered that my wife had cheated on me last night, and that I had handled the matter in the most disgraceful manner possible, destroying most of the decorative implements within my home before packing my children off to my parent's house and going out drinking with…

Kisame.

My lip curled as remembrance rushed through my brain, flashes of being carelessly put in a cab and sent to burden Sakura in a hopelessly drunken state, vague memories of flirting with her unabashedly, and painful recollections of all but asking for her to sleep with me washing over me all at once. He had stolen from me, allowed me to humiliate myself, and most likely caused the destruction of the best friendship I had ever had.

I was often lenient with the man, but this time… this time he was going to pay.

Snarling in my rage, I threw the covers off of myself and slammed my feet onto the ground, standing and stalking over to the pile of clothes I had taken off before bed. Leaning over and snatching up my suit pants, I dug through the pockets quickly and pulled my cell phone from their recesses victoriously, thereafter flipping it open and pressing Kisame's speed dial number before holding it to my ear. A quick glance at the clock on the other side of the bed told me that he would, most likely, not be awake for another few hours, but I would leave him a message that communicated exactly how I felt about his indiscreet maneuver, and then…

The phone had rung three times when I realized what I had just seen as I had looked over my surroundings.

Eyes narrowing worriedly, I spun back around quickly, walking over to the bedside table and leaning over it, picking up the propped open book and glancing at the opened page cursorily before closing it and taking stock of the rest of the objects on the table. The sleeping pill bottles looked as though they had not been used recently, but their mere presence put me on alert.

Had Sakura had so much trouble sleeping that she had turned to drugs for help? This was most alarming news…

The used tissues on the table and filling the trash can beneath it were distressing as well… she used them often, and well. I took this as a sign that she either had a cold, which was somewhat likely at this time of year… or that she cried far more than was healthy.

The flashing red number on the answering machine was just as distressing; if there were so many messages, all of which arriving while she was here, in addition to the letters I had seen last night…

She was purposefully avoiding contact with people.

Frowning irately, I turned away from the paper littered table and walked over to the writing desk beneath another of the room's windows, acknowledging the phone call I had previously been so interested in being directed to my "friend's" answering machine, as expected.

_"Hey, this is Kisame Hoshigaki, and if you're hearing this, it means that I'm asleep, at work, or ignoring you. Feel free to leave a message at the beep, but I can't guarantee that I'll ever listen to it."_

I scoffed at the message as I stopped in front of the desk, pulling the chair out and sitting in it as the telltale beep sounded. He was so asinine…

"It would seem as though you have fully enjoyed your night, Kisame. I hope you are satisfied… because I am not, and I intend for you to bear the full brunt of the responsibility for that. We have many things to discuss about last night, and they _will_ be conferred on. I will not allow this incidence to pass without comment as I have so many times before. Be warned… I am not in a good mood because of your actions. I will have to get back to you on that matter, however, because fortunately for you, I have bigger problems than dealing with thieves and deceitful interlopers. I will contact you when I am done," I said calmly before hanging up and tossing the phone over my shoulder and onto the bed I had just vacated, turning my attention to the disused laptop on the desk's surface.

My anger had largely dissipated because of my still emerging discoveries, but I was sure I would find it in myself to become impassioned on the subject again later.

Especially if Sakura severed ties with me because of my actions, as I expected her to.

Clenching my jaw tightly, I leaned my head onto my hand heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose agitatedly. I honestly couldn't believe myself. I came onto her and truly expected her to respond positively. Even drunk out of my mind, I should have known she would have remained devoted singularly to my brother.

She had loved him for a very long time; a significant part of her life, in fact… all the signs of rejection had been clear, and still I had pressed on. God, this was unbelievable. If I lost her over this, I would entirely deserve it. It would serve me right… but that doesn't mean that I would allow myself to be the only one that suffered. Kisame would feel every ounce of the pain I felt over losing her for his involvement, and I would not be merciful.

Ah, but such things could wait until Sakura awakened and I had to face the dreaded discussion. For now… I had other things to worry about.

Sitting up straight again, I reached out and drew my finger through the dust covering the top of the laptop computer, tracing a line through the substance with growing astonishment. There had never been a day that Sakura hadn't been on her computer, writing the stories that she loved so much. Now… it looked as though she hadn't even touched the device in over a month. Had she lost her muse, perhaps… or just stopped writing entirely, too depressed to even want to bother with something she loved with indescribable emotion?

This was very troubling.

Feeling slightly improper for invading her privacy, I flipped the thin computer open and pressed the button that would start the machine, watching and listening as it whirred to life without trouble, the screen lighting and welcoming me to Sakura's private world. Curiosity overwhelming, I immediately clicked on the folder titled WIP on her desktop, knowing perfectly well that her unfinished works resided within, and raised my eyebrows at the dates beside the six or seven titles contained therein.

She had not even opened the documents in over two months.

Enlightened and further distressed, I shut the computer off and closed it, standing and replacing the chair into its resting place before returning to the bedside, sitting and staring into space. I could hardly make any real assumptions from what I had seen in here, but it was hard to resist. She was obviously still worried about her miscarriages, torn into pieces over the loss of her husband, and having trouble getting rest…

I would have to look into this further, once I was dressed.

The instant that I looked down at my clothes, however, I knew that this part of my morning was going to be a problem. The suit I had worn last night looked as though a homeless vagrant had worn it for a week, covered in dirt and makeup stains and glitter, stained with alcohol and reeking of sweat. God, what in the world had I been doing last night?

I sighed heavily, looking down at my body as if it would somehow assist me. It only served to annoy me further, however; I looked no better than my clothes did. Even my undergarments were in a state unworthy of wear… I was going to have to shower, walk around my sister in law's house naked, and wash my clothes as well.

This was, apparently, going to be a _great_ day.

I scoffed unhappily, standing and shedding my boxers before tossing them onto the pile of putrid clothes on the ground, wary of my undressed state as I strode quickly around the bed and over to the bathroom door. Pulling the door open and flipping on the light, I walked over to the shower stall in the corner of the small room and slid the frosted glass door to the side, looking inside at the bright orange bottles that housed Sakura's shampoo, conditioner, and soap with reluctance.

I was uncomfortable with the thought of using the fruity soaps that Sakura was so fond of using instead of my favored scentless varieties, but with any amount of luck, no one would notice.

Pride had only so much room to spare when given few options.

Sighing and shaking my head minutely, I reached behind me to close the door and, by chance, glanced in the mirror above the sink as I did so. The image that greeted me made me pause, staring incredulously at the mess my hair was.

My ponytail was tangled beyond repair, strands of it hanging loose around my shoulders while the back of my hair was standing straight up, not to mention that my bangs were floating around my face in a ruffled mass. Oh god… had I looked like this last night?

I could only hope that this was a result of bedhead and had most certainly not been viewed by Sakura. I was not one to particularly care what others thought of me… but my appearance was something that I worried over when around the young girl, for some reason.

It was as though I wanted her to always see me at my best… like I wanted to impress her, though I had no real reason to.

Sending a glare at my impossibly ruined hair, I reached back and ripped the rubber band entangled within the mess out, wincing as I tore a few strands of my hair out before tossing the band onto the counter, thereafter rummaging around in the two drawers beneath the sink for a brush.

I would need it, by the time I was done trying to wash all this filth from my hair…

Successfully emerging from the piles of unused makeup and hair product with a rather thin looking pink hairbrush, I nodded and then stepped into the shower stall, resigning myself to much washing and much painful brushing.

Half an hour of scrubbing, suffocating my way through the noxious fumes of passion fruit, and dragging out tangles worthy of lore later, I emerged from the steaming bathroom with my only protection against being completely and entirely naked wrapped around my waist; most distressingly, the only towels that Sakura seemed to own were a bright, obnoxious pink, and I tried to avoid looking down, so as to continue to pretend that I had some semblance of vanity left.

I could only hope that Sakura intended to sleep in a little and would not awaken until I was done washing my clothes.

Firmly tucking in the end of the towel wrapped around my waist, I rubbed another through my hair one last time before tossing it lightly into the hamper that resided beside the bathroom door, seating myself on the edge of the bed and brushing out my midback length hair carefully.

Most did not understand why I kept my hair so long; it was true that, at times, it was a hassle. It was difficult to care for, a hazard in my line of work, and caused me more trouble with the opposite sex than I liked to admit… but I could not, in good conscience, cut it. It was not the tradition behind the thought, as most suspected…

It was a memento of my brother.

When Sasuke had been a two years old, he had been outside playing, watching me as I rode a brand new bike up and down the street. He had wanted to ride too, desiring to be a part of everything that I did, and had toddled into the street so he could alert me. It was little to both of our knowledge that a car containing three uncaring teenagers was about to come tearing around the corner and that they would not see my baby brother stumbling out into their path.

As soon as I saw the speeding car heading straight towards him, I panicked. I hadn't known what to do, so I did the first thing I had thought of; I turned around and rode straight at the car, hoping to catch their attention with my larger frame. My ploy worked, making the car swerve around my brother and me both, but I had been going too fast to stop and lost control of the bike, crashing to the ground and tumbling end over end, still entangled with the bike.

Once my fall had ended, I was, mercifully, mostly uninjured; a few cuts and bruises were to be expected from such a fall, and did not concern me. Unfortunately, in my tumble, I had hopelessly knotted my hair in the chain of the bike, and it had to be cut to free me. My mother and father had kept it long most of my life, saying that it upheld tradition and honored my ancestors, and I had become attached to it being lengthy. As such, I was devastated by its loss.

I was convinced that I was a failure, that at the bare age of nine I had disappointed all of my family and lost any chance at regaining their regard, and had crumpled into tears, determined to never grow it out again. Why should I? All hope was lost already.

Sasuke had been the one to pull me out of my misery, crawling into my lap and looking up at me with love shining from his eyes. He was not capable of much speech at his age, but he did not have to be to communicate his thoughts; he reached up to my butchered locks, fingering the short strands carefully, before looking at me and pulling on one, saying only one word…

Safe.

It had affected me more drastically than I can ever communicate. That one word had reminded me of how I had lost my hair, what I had been doing that had caused its removal, and was strengthened by the reminder. Growing it out for honor and tradition had suddenly became foolish in my mind, and I had hugged my little brother close to me, new resolve springing in my chest.

I had grown it out again, but not for the reasons I had before. Now it reminded me of my duty: my responsibility as a big brother, my role as protector, my calling as ally and guardian. I had never forgotten that day, the day that gave me my place in the world, and had not cut my hair since then.

It became a symbol of our relationship, my brother and I…

You can imagine how much I had wanted to cut it after his death, I am sure. I had not stopped his perishing… I had failed in my duty. I had no right to sport the mark of our connection after my inaction… but I could not bring myself to lose that part of him, after…

After…

I clenched my eyes shut, shuddering and swallowing heavily to keep the tears back. It would not do to lose my head like this. He would not want me to think this way, I knew this for a fact, and tried my best to honor his wishes when I could.

As such, I sniffed lightly, scrubbing my hand over my eyes just in case, and resumed tying my hair back, out of the way. Sending a quick look at the clock, I nodded shortly and, with a quiet sigh, stood and gathered up my clothes, settling them on one arm and striding out the bedroom door and into the dark hallway.

From the quiet settled over the small house, I could guess that Sakura was still asleep, more than likely exhausted from having to care for me at the ungodly hour of two in the morning. It was not so late that I was worried over such a thing, so when I passed by the living room on the way to the kitchen, I did not enter, leaving the lightly breathing woman alone for the moment. Besides, I had other things to hold my attention at the moment.

I had not noticed last night, due to my easily distracted state, but the house was extremely clean. Everything seemed to shine in the early morning sunshine coming through the sliding glass door that led to the backyard, the floor gleaming and the countertops I passed by spotless. This was not entirely too suspicious, but it did give me pause. Sakura was not a messy person by nature; she liked to clean. But she was not a neat freak, either.

Could it be possible that, since she was not writing, she spent all of her time cleaning instead?

Mouth turning down unhappily, I shouldered the wash room door open and turned the light on before walking to the washing machine and opening it, throwing my clothes inside and adding the required soap and softener to the load. I was not encouraged by the scent emanating from the bottles; not only did my hair and skin smell like exotic fruits, my clothes would be scented in a floral fashion.

What had happened to people wanting to smell normal?

Shaking my head, I closed the door and started the load, watching the clothes begin to spin through the clear front before exiting the room and walking over to the glass sliding doors, leaning against the frame and looking out at the bright blue, cloudless sky, birds chasing each other across the expanse of it and chirping out songs of praise to such a clear, glorious day.

I paid little attention to the small animals, however; the sight of the uncared for and wasted garden that Sakura had spent months trying to uphold caught my consideration instead, bringing back memories of how the front lawn, hedges, and flowerbeds had looked in much the same level of dilapidation. This was very unlike her… how could she let something that she loved so much fall into such a state? Surely she had not been too busy to spare thought for her gardening…

Apprehensive and curious as to what else had been neglected in my absence, I turned and walked to the cupboards in the kitchen, opening each with a growing sense of unease. All the dishes were tidy, the storage containers in elegant stacks… but the pantries that normally contained food were empty, spices and dry items like flour and rice occupying the space in place of the normal cans of vegetables, Spaghettios, and peanut butter.

The fridge and freezer were likewise bare save for some bottles of ketchup and mustard, a tub of butter, a lone, shriveled up apple, and rock hard snowball with a carrot stuck in it. The only real food that I could find was an open pack of saltine crackers, presumably from which she had fed me last night, and a very large box of assorted flavor ramen, about a third of which was missing.

Of all the things I had discovered, this was the most concerning and upsetting; it was possible that she had merely neglected going shopping, but if this was intentional… if she was not feeding herself right on purpose, she was more than depressed…

She had lost her will to live.

Too embroiled in my distress to remember that I was clad in only my skin and a short, fluffy pink towel, I walked quickly out of the kitchen and into the living room, moving over to the side of the couch where Sakura was curled up in the corner, snoring lightly despite the light from the window shining on the backs of her eyes and the ruckus the birds were making outside.

I stepped up next to her cautiously, trying my best to not wake her, and pulled the blanket that was covering her face and body off of her, baring her profile and form to my seeking eyes before an involuntary gasp leaked from my lips, shock over what I saw leaving me breathless.

I had missed many things last night.

It was not as though I thought her any less beautiful than she always was; far from it. She looked stunning even in her sleep… but her health had more than obviously waned. She looked far more emaciated than I remembered, her cheekbones jutting from her pallid face sharply and eyes sunken above the dark circles that testified to slight amounts of real, undisturbed rest.

I suspected that she had many nightmares, and was experiencing one even now as she whimpered under her breath, her eyebrows drawing together above her clenched eyelids and her arms hugging her body tightly. I watched the latter movement with horror, observing that even when she breathed in, her ribs showed clearly through the shirt she wore, her hip bones protruding above the waistline of her pink shorts. God, she was so _thin_. I mean, she had always been slight, but this… this wasn't right.

She was starving herself, and if all she was eating was ramen, and probably not much of it, she was going to _die._

I reached out a careful hand, hesitantly fingering a piece of her dull and lifeless hair cautiously. She was so pale and ashy… she probably hadn't been outside long enough to get the nutrients that she required from the sun in at least a month. Brushing her bangs aside, I ran the back of my finger down her jawline tenderly, wondering at how she could let this happen to herself.

She had always cared for herself, never showed any signs of such instability… apparently, my brother had been right when he had told me she would not survive without him. He had known, and I had ignored him out of petty emotions that had wasted time and cost this girl much.

When would my blundering _end_?

I clenched my fists, reaching down and replacing Sakura's blanket before stepping back and watching her continue to sleep, her eyelids and forehead smoothing as her nightmare obviously ended. I could blame myself for this… I should, truth be told… but if I continued to blame myself for everything that happened around me, I would be buried beneath an avalanche of burden.

I could no sooner hold the world on my back.

I could, however, hold her to blame. She was hurting herself, and I could only think of one reason that she would be doing so… she held herself accountable for what had happened.

I shook my head, turning away and looking down at the floor. What a foolish notion… I wanted to pass it off as ridiculous and impossible, but I remembered how she had blamed herself for her own miscarriages, and the idea, after that thought, was entirely feasible. I did not understand it, that was for certain… but I could not allow it to carry on. I had sat back and let this happen to her, but I would _not_ continue to do so.

She may not want me as a lover, she may still see me as nothing but her brother in law… she might even hate me, after my actions last night. But first and foremost, I was her best friend. I would help her, fulfill my promise to my brother, at least in part, and then…

Let her go.

I flinched visibly, clenching my eyes shut against the pain of such a thought. That was the last thing I wanted to ever have to do. To my love stricken mind, there was no way I would be able to do so. Let the love of my life escape, with my _blessing_? How could I do such a thing? Opening my eyes, I moved a hand up and ran it through my bangs, looking down at my toes bitterly. I could, and would, do it, because I had to. She did not want _me._

She wanted my brother.

I chuckled humorlessly, morbidly amused by the satire of the moment as I remembered her denial of the night before. I had always been the best. Always exceled in what I did, always came out on top, always got whatever I wanted… and now that I wanted the most lasting thing I would ever obtain in my life, I had been overlooked in favor of one less than myself.

Second best… the taste of failure was bitter and not at all welcome.

I snorted softly, looking over my shoulder at the slumbering form of the girl I had fallen for sadly. It was not my choice to make, however. She did not want as I did. She had no interest in what I had to offer as a partner, a companion, a _mate_, and as such I would offer what I could; my friendship.

I would help her conquer her ailment, overcome her fears, and ready her for moving on… by herself. I breathed in deeply, letting the air out in a shuddering sigh. I did not want to, but… if it was what she wanted, I would let her keep her memories of her lost husband closer than myself.

I would not interfere.

Nodding resolutely despite the pain of my thoughts, I turned away and walked back into the washroom to switch out the load of clothes that had just finished, thereafter whiling away my time waiting for them to finish by using Sakura's computer to think of something simple that she liked that I could cook for us.

If I recalled correctly, every time that we had ever visited the Chinese food shop on the corner of the block across from my apartment building, she had gotten the sweet and sour chicken, and had crowed over how much she loved the food, recounting her days with her Chinese foster parents and how they used to make it for her on her birthdays. She would appreciate the gesture, I was sure… and it was not difficult to make.

The crux of the problem, however, was the fact that she had none of the ingredients for the recipe, there were no markets within walking distance, I had no money for a taxi, and Sakura was still sleeping deeply.

I would have to drive, and the only car available was hers.

I scowled at the thought as I pulled the clothes iron across my shirt, smoothing the wrinkles from it with care. Truthfully, I had no real problem with taking her car without her permission, of course; she would not mind. I was a good driver, and hadn't been in an accident once in all my years as a motorist.

My aversion was, once again, pride related; her car was one that I did not even want to admit I had in my family, much less _drive_. First I had to use fruit scented soap in the shower, then have my clothes smell like "Spring Meadow"… now I was going to be going shopping, by myself, in a goddamn Prius.

If I hadn't known better, I would have thought that Sakura was _trying_ to embarrass me.

Fortunately, I knew that she had had no idea that I would even be here today, much less be able to resist hangovers due to my status as an extremely tolerant drinker… she probably thought that I would be incapacitated for most of the day, with how much I had drunk. Lips twitching up in amusement, I shook my head and professionally turned the shirt I was ironing over, folding the sleeve so that I could iron a crease into it.

Kisame had been surprised by my tolerance as well, the first time we had gone drinking together… I don't really know why. I wasn't a particularly small or gangly man; I had the weight to resist the substance, the muscular fortitude to keep control of my stomach…

I shrugged, clinically inspecting my shirt before nodding and flipping the iron off, unplugging it, and settling it in its rightful place, thereafter pulling my shirt on, my pressed suit pants already donned in favor of the insufferable pink towel I had been wearing the past two hours. It did not really matter; such a thing would remain a mystery to those who cared enough to consider it, and that was fine by me.

Quickly doing up the buttons on the front of my shirt, I tucked it into the waistline of my pants as I walked out of the washing room and closed the door behind me, thereafter walking into the living room where Sakura was still lying on the couch, barely having moved the entire time.

I knelt beside her, tugging her blanket up around her shoulders more fully and brushing her bangs away from her closed eyes lingeringly. It would not take me long to go to the store and get what I needed, but if she woke while I was gone and found her car missing, she was more than likely going to have an understandable reaction: flipping out.

I smirked slightly, reluctantly drawing my hand back and standing again. There was little I could do to assuage her in such a circumstance, so there was no real point in worrying about it. I would just have to apologize when I returned. It was likely that such an occurrence would happen, with how long she had been sleeping… it was nearing on eleven o'clock, and she had yet to rise.

Surely she would awaken soon.

Forcing back the worry coiling in my stomach, I turned and walked over to the front door, straightening my shirt collar habitually, before plucking Sakura's keys from the key rack beside the door and departing, locking the door behind me.

The drive to and from the local supermarket was as uneventful as could be hoped for; the only troubles I had were discovering that Sakura couldn't have left the house anytime recently (there had been thick dust on the steering wheel of her car), nearly being run over by a stampede of cereal addicted children while passing the breakfast food aisle, and being forced to unscrupulously mislead a pair of cooing teenage girls that found themselves incredibly interested in the fact that I was not married, leading them to believe that I was gay with the sum of all my misfortunes this morning.

Other than that, there were no outstanding difficulties, and I returned to Sakura's home in a semi good mood, arms laden with my purchases and slightly dreading walking into my sister in law's home if she were awake (I had found a baseball bat leaned against the wall beside the front door while I was snooping around her home, and had no real desire to have it used on me).

I needn't have feared, however; when I guardedly unlocked the front door and hung up Sakura's keys in their place, I was not greeted with hostile questioning or potential violence, but instead utter silence, and when I walked past the living room on tip toes, my cursory glance within evidenced that Sakura hadn't moved an inch while I was gone.

I wasn't sure whether I should be relieved or concerned; I hadn't wanted to be assumed for a thief or criminal, sure, but sleeping this much couldn't be normal for her. I did not know, but if she wasn't awake by the time I was finished cooking, I would wake her up myself.

Trying to ignore the dread I felt over the thought of her never waking up, I set about making the food I had bought, boiling rice and chopping the chicken into bite size chunks. Cooking was something that I enjoyed from time to time; it was not a favored activity, but when I was in turmoil within, plain instructions and productive activity were things that helped to calm me, and cooking was every bit those things.

I had been told that I was quite a good cook when I indulged in the activity as well, so I looked forward to winning Sakura's admiration for this meal as well, despite the fact that I would get nothing more than a thank you in return. I shouldn't even expect more than that, really… but my weakness the night before had shattered my resolve to separate myself from this woman, and even as I tried to push my thoughts back to a safe place, I felt myself slipping, wishing desperately for the regard that I craved for more than anything else.

Would I never learn?

I sighed over the plates I was arranging, piling rice on the surface of the green tinted glass before pouring the finished chicken product over the top and unwrapping two pairs of chopsticks from their packaging, setting one on each of the plates and looking over my handiwork blandly. I couldn't understand how I could let myself slip so drastically in just one night. Even if I had been drunk, I should have known better… and now it was too late to go back.

I would not be able ignore her completely like I had been before, especially if I was to be helping her… but perhaps I could pretend to. I could, for her benefit and her preference, falsify coldness and disinterest. I would suffer, this was true, but it would be no more than I had been for the past five and a half years. I was a grown man, and I could handle it.

For her, I would do anything… even act like she was the last thing that I wanted when it was the farthest thing from the truth.

Grimacing bitterly, I snorted and pulled the refrigerator door open, placing the rest of the green peppers and pineapple that I hadn't used within before shutting the door with my hip, wincing over the unnecessary loudness of its slamming before hoisting the filled plates in my grip and striding towards the doorway of the kitchen. Such is life, I suppose…

Chuckling humorlessly, I walked down the short expanse of hallway to the living room, turned the corner, and was genuinely surprised by what I found within; Sakura had woken up, looking around the room she sat in blearily as though she had no idea where she was.

She was currently engaged in staring at me like I had feelers sprouting from my head, eyes wide and jaw slack as she perused my form. Normally I would have made a smug remark on her inspection of me, flirting indecently because I simply could not resist, but if I were to honor her unspoken wishes and let her stay celibately focused on her deceased husband… I could not do such a thing any longer. As such, I gave her a small, strained smile as I entered the room, acknowledging her and approaching with measured steps.

"Good afternoon," I greeted amiably, handing her the plate with the larger amount of food on it when I reached her side and seating myself beside her after moving the blanket she had been using out of the way with my free hand. "I was going to wake you if you weren't already up. I hope you don't mind, but I borrowed your car so I could go get some food; the only things you have in the whole house are ramen and crackers."

I had been closely inspecting the wall in front of me while I spoke, trying to compose myself to avoid thinking the wrong things about the alarmed and confused looking woman beside me, but when I turned to offer her an admonishing smile over her food choices, I found her still staring incomprehensibly, seemingly unable to understand something about my presence. Perhaps she was still too tired to remember why I was here… it would come to her.

I broke my chopsticks apart efficiently before pointing them at the plate sitting unnoticed in her lap, indicating the food on it.

"You still like sweet and sour chicken, correct?" I asked softly, picking up one of the morsels from my own plate and eating it, and she jumped suddenly, looking down at the plate she was holding as if seeing it for the first time. Had she been lost in thought then? What had she been thinking so diligently about?

I would have asked her, too curious for my own good, if she hadn't made a magnificent recovery, sitting up straight and smiling as brightly as the sun, though I could tell that it was a mere façade. The warmth of the action did not reach her eyes, as it did when she was truly pleased.

Why was she hiding behind a false smile, especially from _me_? She had never had a reason to do such a thing before. What was going through her head that was making her so wary? Was it what I said and did last night?

Had I alienated her completely?

Dread crept up my spine as I watched Sakura break her chopsticks apart as well, trying to hold them incredibly impractically. "Uh… yes, I still like it… but you really didn't have to go out and cook all this… ramen is fine for me," she muttered as she stared down her hand, obviously expecting the thin bamboo sticks between her fingers to work properly despite the fact that she would never be able to pick up anything the way she was holding them, and I forced a sigh through my worry, reaching over and plucking the chopsticks from her grip before showing her how to hold them correctly, moving her fingers for her and loving every minute of indulging in her touch.

Her comment was enough to distract me from the pleasure of her touch, however, and I frowned minutely. So I had been right… her singularly focused meals were completely intentional.

"Well, that explains why it looks like you've lost twenty pounds; I had thought, from all the ramen and nothing else, that you just hadn't gone shopping in a while," I said poignantly, eyeing her protruding clavicle pointedly, but she appeared unashamed, inspecting the sticks between her fingers and clicking them together a few times routinely. I scowled deeper, leaning forward and sending her a sardonic look. "You do know that sleeping half the day and eating nothing but microwavable cups of noodles isn't beneficial to your health, right?"

She merely shrugged in response to my question, obviously ignoring my expression and insistence alike, and decided that she wouldn't even try to pick up the food in front of her, instead turning her chopsticks into a spear and stabbing one of the chunks of chicken, thereafter popping it into her mouth in a victorious manner.

I sighed at this maneuver before reaching over and once again taking her hand in mine (with a great sense of victory myself), showing her how to pick up her food without stabbing or dropping it. She was not entirely proficient at the art, but she could manage well enough by the end of a quick demonstration, and as such we proceeded to eat together peacefully, falling into companionable silence and enjoying the food I had prepared.

As I sat beside Sakura, making easy work of the simple meal, I thought heavily about what I was going to have to do within the next hour or so. I forced subtle contentment into my expression so that I would not alert her to my thoughts, but on the inside my worry only grew by the second, nervousness over the impending conversation about the night before almost making my calm hands shake and determination about confronting her on her dangerous self-destruction nearly causing me to snap my chopsticks into halves. I was going to have these conversations with her, whether I wanted to or not and despite the fact that she clearly didn't want me intruding on her affairs…

I just had no idea how to broach the subjects.

All too soon I was sitting with an empty plate in my grasp, fretting inside over how I could possibly begin. Should I ask for forgiveness first, or demand to know why she was acting as she was outright? How could I know how to start, how to approach her without offending or giving the wrong impression? This was impossible…

Irritable, worried out of my mind, and more nervous than I had been in a long time, I sent the woman beside me a cursory glance from the corner of my eye, only to see her closely inspecting… me. Blinking lightly, I turned to face her fully as her gaze moved over my hairline, down my face, and to my chest, at which time a small, light pink blush lit her cheeks.

This would have pleased me to no end, and no doubt spurred me into some sort of extremely detrimental and impassioned action, had I not been so firmly rejected the night before. I wasn't sure what she was thinking, or why she was, for lack of a better expression, checking me out…

But it was not because she was interested in me. Of this fact, I was certain.

The desire to make my knowledge of her perusal of my form was too strong to resist, despite my despondency over my thoughts, and so I let my confusion convert into amusement, lips lifting into a knowing smirk.

"Your food is getting cold," I offered, taking notice on the side that she had barely touched her plate, and as soon as I spoke her eyes ripped away from my chest, rising to meet mine with shock and mortification coloring them. So she had not expected me to notice her examination, then… how intriguing.

I looked on with barely restrained curiosity as she looked away from me determinately, the light blush darkening at least two shades. I did not inquire after her interest, however; she knew me well enough to know that I would want an explanation for her behavior, and I knew _her_ well enough to know that she would know better than to deny me.

As such, I merely waited as she seemingly composed herself, ineptly chasing a neglected piece of chicken around her plate before finally catching it in her grasp, and watched as she compiled an answer to the question I had not needed to ask.

"I'm sorry, Itachi; I didn't mean to stare. I'm just amazed by how good you look for having been so drunk last night," she said quietly, avoiding my gaze pointedly by staring intently at her captured prey, and I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me at her comment. Of course she would be taken aback by that. I let out sigh of amusement, setting my plate to the side for the moment. Had I not been contemplating the subject of her reaction to this very conundrum just this morning?

"You are not the first to be surprised by it, nor will you be the last. I have a strong tolerance for alcohol…" I said, shrugging minutely, before realizing that this would be the perfect opportunity to begin my questioning. She seemed to be in an amiable mood, she didn't act as though she had any aversion to my person as she nodded in understanding to my explanation… and we were already on the subject. I would have to lie, to make the question seem innocent… but I had already completely destroyed her trust in me, as far as I was concerned.

What detriment was one more, smaller falsehood?

"Though my memories of the time passing during my inebriated state are often fuzzy. I didn't make a fool of myself, did I? I can't remember anything that happened after getting into the cab last night besides getting here and ringing your doorbell twenty times," I stated, forcing curiosity into my voice while steeling myself for a biting and harsh response.

What I got instead I will remember for the rest of my life.

Her jaw dropped open in sheer surprise, gaze shooting up to me as something wild manifested in her eyes, and her grip on her chopsticks slackened, causing her to drop her hard attained food. Her gaze flickered over my face sharply, as if searching for something. What was the matter? I did not understand why she was acting this way… I had asked a simple enough question, one that had an equally simple, although cruel and unwanted, answer.

She should have instantly replied with a cutting dismissal; it was all I deserved for my actions…

"No, you were great. You got here and told me that you didn't want to go home after I got you some crackers in case your stomach was upset from the alcohol, so I let you stay. You were a little off balance so I thought that putting you in the bed would be safer than sticking you on the couch, so… yeah," she interjected with a bright smile that, once again, did not reach her eyes, cutting off my turmoiled thoughts with the motion, and I froze in response.

She was… lying? To _me_?

I could honestly, from my confidence in my memory, say that she had never done such a thing before. She had always trusted me with the truth, as far as I knew… so why would she not do so now? Was she afraid of losing my friendship? Did she truly believe that I could not remember what had happened, and was trying to protect herself from my possible incredulity or outright disbelief… or did she no longer care enough for me to bother trying to fix my wrongdoing and accept my apology?

My eyes narrowed at such thought, and I folded my arms over my chest firmly, giving her an intense and scrutinizing overlook. Technically, she had not lied… merely skipped over most of the details of the night. The fact that she had not been completely honest with me, however, was enough to grate against my nerves. She should not have to hide anything from me. I was her friend. Her _best_ friend.

If she no longer trusted me with the truth, how was I supposed to help her get better?

I scowled slightly, my eyebrows drawing together infinitesimally. "I didn't say or do anything besides that?" I queried insistently, sharpening my gaze. She could not avoid this question without directly lying or finally clarifying what had happened. I would have my answer, no matter how much it would hurt me. I would not allow her to, dare I say it, weasel out of this without making her standing point clear.

The instant the words left my lips she whipped her gaze from mine and back to her plate, trying once again to pick up some of the remaining food there while at the same time shaking her head in obvious denial.

I wanted to hit something. _Why_ was she lying? I didn't want this… I didn't want her to hide herself from me in any way. This would not help her, or assist me in my quest to aid her. I suppose there was nothing for it, however… she obviously had no intention of expounding any further, or to accuse me of anything, and so I would let it drop.

Letting it go like this left an empty feeling in the air around us, for some reason… and I wasn't sure I knew why. I had thought that she would push me away, and instead she had left opportunity for our continued friendship through untruths. It was not as though I had particularly _wanted_ to lose her… just expected to. I felt as if I were tied up in knots, unsure of my next move because of how she had handled my attempted ploy. I had not expected this…

The peace of being forgiven was the furthest thing from my mind at the moment, however… I still had to force an acknowledgement of her wrongdoing from her.

I remained staring at her clinically for only a few more moments following her denial before shrugging in an uncaring way, picking up my plate and standing. Now that I had not so effectively knocked the first confrontation out of the way, I had only one more before offering my assistance in a form that she would not recognize.

"It's reassuring to know that I was well taken care of and was respectful towards you. I tend to become quite fulsome and loquacious while intoxicated, and I would hate to think that I said or did anything offensive," I said implicitly, giving Sakura a look of significance, before turning my back and walking back towards the kitchen, intent to wash the dishes that I had dirtied.

I smiled slightly to myself as I wetted the blue sponge in my grasp and sprayed a small amount of dishwashing detergent on it. This was turning out much better than I had thought that it was going to… I had dreaded and feared and fretted all day for nothing. The worst of it was over. She had not shut me out of her life. I still wanted to know why… god, it was like a fire burned within my veins, insatiable curiosity razing my body.

But I knew that I could not find out without giving away my own lie, and I had no real desire to do such a thing. It might be hypocritical of me to be so offended by her untruths when I was being less than honest myself… but I had little shame on that matter. Fairness was a privilege, not a commodity…

And life had taught me the hard way that it was most certainly not just.

Wrinkling my nose at my thoughts, I resumed scrubbing at the frying pan I had used for stir frying, chipping at a green pepper that had stuck stubbornly to the pan. Considering my hardships was something that I tried to avoid, when possible… there were more who had gone through worse, and feeling sorry for myself did no one any good… especially not myself.

It was best to remain focused on the task I had at hand and get it over with as quickly as possible.

Shutting off the faucet, I picked up the rag I had set to the side and efficiently began drying the dishes I had just cleaned, thereafter placing them in their respective cupboards and cabinets, all the while looking around myself speculatively. Surely Sakura must almost be done. She had had a lot left on her plate when I had left, but I trusted her empty stomach and her obvious appreciation of the meal to speed her consumption now that I was not watching her, and when she came in to wash her dishes, I would approach the subject here.

This was as good a place as any to confront her, I suppose… evidence that I intended to use against her surrounded me on all sides. She would have nowhere to go, no way to distract me from my questioning…

The soft fall of her footsteps caught my attention away from my musing, and I turned my attention pointedly to the close inspection of the surface of the dining room table, balling my fists in my pockets and firmly keeping my back to her as she walked into the room, immediately walking over to the sink and beginning to fill one of the halves of the basin with water in preparation for washing her plate.

Once she was focused on her task I turned around, looking over her small frame as she scrubbed at her dish. Had she always been so fragile looking, so breakable and delicate? I honestly couldn't remember. I always thought of her in terms of her personality and demeanor, not in how her body was shaped…

Allowing such thoughts led down a twisted and poisonous route, and if I wished to be able to sleep the following night without being forced to relieve my tension and desire in a shamefully adolescent manner, I avoided the considerations entirely, despite my, at times, overpoweringly male demand to look on her body and lust as any man in his right mind should.

Shaking myself, I walked back into the kitchen fully and, to occupy my time while she washed up, opened one of her cupboards, despite already knowing what was contained within. The one I chose happened to be the spice larder; Sasuke had been fond of cooking, and had always kept a full complement of every herb that could be used for food preparation at the ready. The glass bottles of crushed leaves and ground seeds were lined up in neat rows, barely even touched since… since Sasuke was gone.

Throat tight, I reached out and touched my forefinger to a half used bottle of Italian seasoning, my brother's favorite spice. I could understand why they had fallen into disuse; Sakura was a lot like Alora in this manner, and preferred to let the cooking fall to one more talented. She more than likely did not know more than a few elementary recipes and kitchen procedures. She was a gifted baker, this was to be sure… but a cook?

I smirked, withdrawing my hand and shutting the cupboard door. I had attempted to eat the products of her cooking attempts more than once, and had barely suffered through the experience with a straight face. It was an inevitable endpoint that at least one part of the meal was burned, whether or not it was even cooked in the first place.

Snorting lightly, I turned to glance at Sakura over my shoulder, seeing that she had finished her cleaning and was unplugging the sink with a sense of duty. Firming my resolve and bolstering my courage, I turned and moved to stand behind her, looking down on her movements with patient expectation.

She did not seem to have noticed my movement as she replaced the drain plug beside the faucet of the sink, because after she did so she took a step backwards, bumping into me and freezing in shock. This had a hazardous and not completely welcome effect on me, as I am sure you can imagine; having her back pressed completely and firmly against my chest and having the curve of her backside pushed quite inconveniently against my groin was overwhelming and incredibly alluring.

How easy it would be to wrap my arms around her and pull her closer still… how simple it would be to turn her, lean down, and capture her lips as she stared wide eyed up at me… how gratifying to touch the body I had been observing earlier, to know what it felt like to lose myself within her flesh…

I very nearly lost all control of myself at that point. I wanted her so badly. I had craved her for so long. I was ready to take her, to accept my role as more than friend… but her fearful voice, asking me what I was doing with an almost terrified stutter marring her words, broke me from my suddenly predatory and lustful perusal of the fall of her hair and the line of her neck, making me come to my senses while forcing myself to look away from her.

She was afraid… of me. Well, my presence so close to her, to be exact. This wasn't allowable, no matter what I wanted. As such, rather than responding to her question, I reached out and grabbed onto her arm to turn her around, at the same time taking a step back so that she wouldn't be pressed against me so intimately.

Her alarmed curiosity as to my actions was obvious in her eyes and the way she held herself… she truly didn't want me being this close to her.

Heart clenching painfully at the thought, I cleared my throat quietly and pressed on. "When was the last time that you did anything besides hide in your house and sulk, Sakura? Have you done anything besides stare at the walls, clean, and think since Sasuke died?" I questioned point blank, making sure that my expression left no room for allowance, and she swallowed heavily, looking up at me with hesitance and guilt in her gaze.

"Uh… I went out to get the mail yesterday…" she muttered quietly, as if this were the answer that I was looking for, and I couldn't stop myself from bristling in consternation, my eyes narrowing and hardening in reproach.

She would not avoid this conversation so easily this time…

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it," I stated sharply, refusing to allow any sort of deviation. We would discuss this, whether she wanted to or not. "You can tell me yourself, without any half ass excuses, or I can make my own assumptions regarding the issue. Your choice."

After my demand was stated I fell into silence, watching as she obviously searched desperately for something she could offer me that would appease my interest. It was clear that she was hard pressed to do so, and this merely made me all the more insistent. If she could think of _nothing_, in the past _month_, then this talk was more than necessary.

After waiting a fair amount of time, I let out a silent huff of air.

"Very well, I shall make my own assumptions," I said before pointing over her shoulder at the cupboard behind her. "From the industrial size box of ramen that you have in your pantry, I can estimate that it has been at least two and a half weeks since you've been absolutely forced to go shopping," I listed matter of factly, folding my arms and looking down at her embarrassed acknowledgement of the assumption. I was correct then…

"Judging from the sharpness of your cheekbones, the unhealthy texture of your skin, and the severity of the protrusions of your ribcage," I said, at the same time reaching down and running my forefinger lightly along her ribcage, more for the sake of touching her than anything else, and looked on with slight arrogance at the shiver that racked her frame. "You haven't been eating more than twice a day, if that."

Next I directed my attention to the shadows rimming her eyes, displeased by the darkness of the bruising. She really wasn't taking as good a care of herself as she should be… "The circles underneath your eyes indicate a distinct lack of healthy rest, despite your comatose slumber of earlier today."

From her expression, I could judge that I was hitting spot on with every point I made, the reluctant and ashamed downturn of her eyes and the light blush coloring her cheeks more telling than even she knew. Nodding to myself, I gestured widely around the kitchen.

"Your home is spotless and immaculate; everything is in its place and not a speck of dust is on anything here… you spend most of your days occupying your mind with menial tasks like cleaning." Looking back at her to see if I had, once again, hit home, I was surprised to discover something else to add to my list, something I had suspected but not truly been aware of…

"The capillaries in your eyes are starting to erode due to all of the crying that you do," I accused, disapproving of the discovery in every way but unable to dwell on it for the sake of the continuance of the confrontation. As such, I moved on to my next points.

"The date on your last writing project on your laptop dates back to two months ago; you haven't been writing. The lack of luster to your hair and skin indicates that you haven't been outside for any length of time greater than five minutes anytime lately. There was undisturbed dust on the steering wheel of your car, indicating that you haven't gone anywhere for at least a week…" I paused for effect, looking down at her with heavy significance. "And you haven't been answering your phone. There are forty-eight messages on your answering machine that you haven't even glanced at."

Everything that I had said had been met with silent acceptance, and I took another step back, leaning heavily against the counter. I had expected such… but that didn't mean I was happy about it. So much was wrong here… so much to be fixed. She needed my help, but I knew her well.

Her pride would not allow her to let me offer if she had any other choices. I had to eliminate her options, force her to recognize that she could not continue in this manner… and hide the fact that I was doing this solely for her sake. I had my coup well planned already. I knew it would work.

I just hoped she wouldn't fight too hard.

Fixing her with a serious expression, I frowned slightly. "Now, I want you to answer me very truthfully, Sakura… do you need help? You are not attempting to get over losing my brother in the least bit, and this… what you are doing here… will only end badly. I can get you recommended to the best psychologists in the state…" I subtly threatened, knowing full well what her reaction to this would be and at the same time refusing the thought itself.

It was what I should have done, sure… but I was confident that she would be able to overcome this with my assistance alone. Doctors need not be involved. The warning was only that… a warning.

It would never be acted upon.

Her shaking her head wildly and trying to escape by edging along the counter away from me almost made me smile, pleased as I was with my ability to predict her actions.

"No, I don't need help. I'm perfectly fine, Itachi, and I can take care of myself. Thank you for…" she began, earnestly trying to convince me that all was well, but I shoved off from the counter and blocked her escape with my arm, hovering over her and feigning anger.

"Do _not_ lie to _me_, Sakura," I warned, growling in my pretended ire. "I cannot allow you to continue in this manner, and I will not let you keep hurting yourself like this. Secluding yourself, starving yourself, _punishing_ yourself… this is psychotic behavior, and as the last surviving member of your family, it is my duty to confront you about it. If you do not change your actions, I will be forced to report you to a mental health expert, and you will most likely be admitted to a hospital."

As soon as I saw the tears in her eyes and watched her mouth fall open in betrayed shock, I felt like the worst sort of cad. Who was I to intimidate this woman, to threaten her with being treated like an unstable lunatic? I had no right to interfere in her life… but part of what I had said was true, and it was this part that would drive me onward.

I could not allow her to keep on like she had been for far too long.

"You can't do this to me, Itachi… I just want to mourn my husband in peace… why won't you let me?" she asked brokenly, gaze begging for me to understand her pain, and this time… this time I did not have to pretend my anger. What did she know of _mourning_? What she was doing gave no reverence or honor to her deceased lover.

I would make her see that.

"That's not what you're doing anymore," I spat, glaring down at her passionately. "You are blaming yourself for Sasuke and Alora's deaths, and you cannot ask me to sit by and watch while you waste away to nothing. Do not make me the villain for doing what my brother would have done in my place. Do you think that this was what Sasuke would have wanted? Hm?" I queried sharply, wanting her to acknowledge that her path of choosing was wrong and would take her nowhere but down, and she flinched slightly at my tone, looking down at her feet and sniffling quietly.

"N-no…" she whispered, hands moving up to join so she could twist her fingers together, and I nodded. She was seeing sense. Good.

"Do you think that he would have blamed you for his death?" I asked, a little less intensely, and she shook her head minutely, eyes still downcast.

"No…" I smirked at the admition, stepping backwards a little to allow her some room, now that I was appeased.

"Then why are you acting like this? This is no way to honor his memory, Sakura," I stated, and she looked up at me finally, meeting my eyes with a tired sort of determination, as if thinking that I should already know what she was about to say.

"Because it _is_ my fault, Itachi."

The fury that flared at her words was something that I had never felt for her before.

How dare she try to take the blame for this upon herself. How _dare_ she steal my pain and use it to cow herself instead of me. Surely she knew that I was to blame… how could she have been the cause of this when I was at fault?

I should not have been so offended by what she said. I knew this. But I could not help it; what she was forcing on herself was not something that she should have been held beneath. If this… if _this_ was what was making her so thoughtless over her own health…

I would put a stop to it.

"Is that so? I hadn't realized that you were the semi-truck that took our spouse's lives," I snarled, glowering at her without an ounce of restraint, and she flinched away from me, looking down at the floor between her feet in mortification. I did not pause in my cruel questioning, however, merely taking a step forward and amplifying my rage to a higher level. "Or perhaps you were the rabbit that ran in front of the truck, making it swerve into Sasuke's car. Maybe you were the rain that made the car's brakes falter or the overpass that made escape impossible."

Every word that I spoke made her shrink farther into herself, and by the time that I was finished the tears that had shone so innocuously in her eyes were running down her cheeks, silent sobs racking her shoulders. Guilt wormed into my gut, but I pushed it back, reaching down and wrapping my fingers around her chin before tugging it upwards, forcing her to look at me.

Her eyes glittered with her tears, shining in the light offered by the overhead panel, and her agony echoed from their depths like she had spoken the words describing her feelings out loud. I had to make her understand… she could not be allowed to feel the pain that I felt every day over this.

It was inexcusable.

"These things are called accidents for a reason, Sakura. It is no one's fault, especially not yours. Sasuke wouldn't have stood for this if he knew what you were doing, and my… Alora wouldn't have been happy either," I said while wiping at her tear stained cheeks with my thumb, voice breaking unevenly at my finishing. I had not intended to bring _her_ up… the mentioning would only add resentment where I needed not have more emotions to drown in.

Soft, thin fingers grasping at my own pulled me away from my thoughts, and I looked down at Sakura's suddenly sympathetic expression with slight confusion. Why was she looking at me like she pitied me? I had said nothing to deserve such… ah. That's right… she didn't know what had happened. She would think that I was grief stricken by Alora's death… that I was wary of mentioning her to save myself a measured amount of pain.

How wrong she was.

I had to smile at the thought however, squeezing Sakura's fingers at the same time as I stroked her cheek, looking into her eyes gently but reprovingly.

"Never blame yourself," I muttered, and was suddenly struck by the gentleness of the moment.

This… _this_ was what it should have been like. Standing together after a disagreement, comforting each other and reveling in our solidarity. It was just me and her now… we should be able to lean on each other and find peace. To be able to move on, learn to love again… it felt perfect, just staring into her eyes and having her so close.

I wanted the moment to never end.

But, inevitably, all things must cease, and with an apparent reawakening to her morals, Sakura pulled away from me slightly, avoiding my gaze and looking over my shoulder determinately. I didn't want to acquiesce to her silent dismissal, however; I wanted to remain within her regard, to keep on touching her and sinking in her radiant eyes… but it was not to be. She did not want me, and I would honor this if it was the last thing I ever did.

What she wanted was more important.

I released my grip on her arm and my contact with her cheek, taking a step away and letting her reestablish her personal space. We stood watching each other for a moment, unsure of how to press forward through the pieces of the broken moment, and after a few long seconds, I grew uncomfortable with silence and cleared my throat, folding my arms and looking her over obviously.

"Can we agree on the subject of you needing help?" I asked, and, though appearing reluctant of having to do so, she nodded mutely.

Pleased with the progress we were making, I smiled and pressed onward. "Good. Now, I am aware of the fact that you have no desire to be admitted to a mental hospital or be passed into the care of a psychologist, so I have a proposition to make to you."

She looked up at me in response, obviously interested in my cryptic comment, and I breathed deeply, brushing my pride to the side and folding my hands behind my back. It was time to offer my assistance in an acceptable manner to her selfless mind. "It is difficult to admit, but I am in need of your assistance just as much as you are in need of mine. You see… I have a problem. As I'm sure you are aware, I am a very busy man and I haven't had much time to spend at home in the past few years with all of my duties. As such… I do not know how to care for my children."

Without realizing it I began to pace along the length of the room, agitation over the much thought through subject rising and making my finger clench tightly. How I hated what little I could do for my progeny… but maybe, if all went well, I could learn… with Sakura's help.

"Alora was always there to take care of everything, and I am sad to say that they are suffering without her. I have tried to get them to bond with sitters and nannies, but… they pine after a familiar and comforting presence that I cannot replace with people they don't know. They understand that Alora will not be returning, but still they suffer. Kenji barely speaks anymore and Roku… I often can't get him to eat more than a few bites of food. You know how to take care of children, they know, trust and love you… I want you to help me care for them."

I sent her a look as I passed by her in my pacings, trying to read into her expression to see how she was handling my offer. She looked surprised and confused, blinking slowly and obviously taken aback by the knowledge that I was not perfect at everything. It was not a particularly promising reaction, but it wasn't negative. Encouraged, I pressed on.

"In the same motion, this would be helping to pull you out of your depression. You would have responsibilities, things to do every day, reasons to get dressed, go outside, and associate with people, and, essentially, move on. Get better. When I deem you recovered, I would release you from your duties and you could then go back into the world on your own and begin a new life. Be you again. We both benefit from this and everything can start going back to normal again," I finished with difficulty, forcing the last words from my mouth and beating back the urge to take them back with everything within my being.

She couldn't be allowed to know that I would never want her to leave my family, the city, _me_; not after it had just been the two of us, working together to restore what we had lost.

I would let her leave even if it killed me.

She seemed to be thinking it over closely when I looked back at her, eyebrows furrowed and eyes far away. "What would I need to do? Drive over there every day, take Kenji to and from school, and watch Roku all day?" she asked finally, looking up at me in question, and I closed my eyes, turning my head and taking a deep, steadying breath.

She would protest against what I was about to say… but it needed to be said. "That isn't going to work, unfortunately. The first step in overcoming your depression is admitting that you have a problem. You have done this. The second… is letting it go. You have to get out of this house and put aside all of the memories that it holds inside of it."

She looked as though I had reached out and hit her across the face.

She stared at me with wide eyed incomprehension, mouth moving up and down silently and breaths coming in short bursts. Her head shook side to side in an almost unconscious manner, her hair moving with the motion wildly.

"I can't do that, Itachi. This house is everything to me. Sasuke and I worked so hard to make this our home…" she whimpered, backing as far away from me as she could in an obvious attempt at trying to deny the truth, and I could do nothing but look on her with sympathy, nodding in understanding of her plight while inwardly cursing myself, disgusted with my daring.

What was I doing? There was no need for her to move in with me… she did not have to leave her home, the last remnants of what she had of my brother, behind. I was being selfish… I was asking for too much. I had no right to tell her this was the best option. I had already spoken the words, however… they could not be taken back, and even if they could be… I did not want to. I could lie to her, now that I had started… but I would not lie to myself.

I wanted her to live with me.

Dangerously close to combusting with conflicting emotion, I pressed onward, lying even more with exponentially multiplying distaste for myself as I did it. "I know that. But that's why you have to leave. If you stay here, everything you look at will remind you of what you have lost and you will never get the chance to move past it. I'm not telling you to forget what happened; that's just living in denial. What you need to do is make it into a memory… but that is all. Don't let it change you, or you will lose yourself."

Following my cutting words she looked down, biting at her bottom lip as she did. "I just… I don't know if I can. I am not as strong as you and Sasuke… I'm so weak…"

I could only stare at her.

What did she mean, she was _weak_? There was none stronger than her, however misleading her appearance and musculature might be. We were not discussing physical strength or power… we were speaking of force of will, the ability to resist our own inner demons. In this manner… she outclassed even the most controlled of all men, myself prominently included.

Displeased by how little she seemed to know of her innermost strength, I slammed my hand down on the counter beside her and leaned close to her, making her jump nervously and look up at me with wide eyed surprise. I gave her a warm yet reproving look, gazing deep into her eyes significantly.

"No, Sakura. You are not weak. Being sad and falling into a depression does not make you weak. You have lost so much in so little time; your parents, your children, Sasuke… if you weren't sad you wouldn't be a human being. You are one of the strongest women that I know, and I know that you may not think that you can do this, but I believe in you. You can leave all of this behind and become your old self again…" Narrowing my eyes and making my lips thin into a promising scowl, I leaned even closer to her.

"Even if I have to drag you every step of the way."

We gazed at each other for many long seconds following my firm speech, me expecting her to voice some sort of denial and her obviously considering it, before she glanced away from my heavy gaze and back to the floor.

"Is this the only way? I couldn't just leave here and get the help I need elsewhere?" she muttered, and my while frame seized. No… I couldn't allow that. I couldn't let her go into the care of another, not when… I needed her to be with me.

Wasn't that why I was going to the trouble to lie to her so implicitly? Wasn't that why I was refusing to even think of taking her to a doctor? I wanted to be the one she turned to, even if I was only her friend. I couldn't let her seek aid from someone else… not while I was still so weak. In time, when I could once again from a façade strong enough to look away from her and let her leave… but not yet.

I would not survive without her.

Forcing myself to loosen up so as not to alarm Sakura, I shook my head. "I do not think that it would be prudent for you to be alone in your state. Perhaps when you have recovered you can do such a thing, but… not now. Seclusion is the last thing you need. That's why you will be coming to live with us at the penthouse; there are plenty of empty rooms to choose from." I said as off handedly as I could manage, and after considering that for a few moments she nodded in understanding, gaze moving away from me and over the kitchen we stood in, a sad and weighted smile lifting her lips as she did so.

I utterly refused to think of anything until I gained a response from her, watching keenly for any sign of approval or otherwise, and so was not blind to the tiny pucker that formed between her eyebrows as she looked at her refrigerator, confusion and unhappy discontent layering her clouded eyes.

Intrigued, I turned to follow her line of sight, but saw nothing that could explain her expression. What was she thinking then, if not about the room? Surely she had not seen through my lies… she was not an unintelligent woman, but she was not particularly gifted in the finer arts of deceit and cunning. I, however, had to be; my time as an interrogator had made it a necessity to know when I was being lied to, or even having a part of the truth withheld… and as such, was able to know how to shield myself from being discovered in my own lies.

I was extremely proficient at hiding my untruths… so what was she considering that was so repugnant? I turned back to her, intending to either discover the answer for myself or ask about it, just in time to see her shaking herself from her melancholy and offering up another false smile, nodding firmly in agreement.

I smiled lightly at that before stepping fully back and allowing her to finally leave the kitchen as she had desired to before I cornered her, presumably to either return to the living room or get dressed. I followed her departure with staid eyes once her back was turned, however.

What had I just _done_? Had I really consigned my sister in law to live with me until I decided she was cured of her depression? I shook my head, sliding my hands into my pockets and sighing. I had… and now that I had done it, there could be no going back. Why could I not leave well enough alone? Now I would be in even more pain every day, forced to know that I had killed my brother, neglected my sons, forced my wife to cheat on me… and been rejected completely by the love of my life.

Shaking my head, I looked up at the ceiling exasperatedly. I would be strong though. For Sakura and my boys, I would do all that I could to learn how to be a father and a platonic brother in law. Nodding, I walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway to locate and further discuss the plans for Sakura's moving.

If I had known what would come of my misdirection in only two years' time… I'm not sure I would have done anything different.

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_Holy hell. D: Why is it that when I write from one of the Uchiha brother's perspective's, the word count skyrockets? Maybe I make them think too much or something… ugh. My fingers hurt. XD Anyway, there you have it; my pathetic attempt at making year one. Sorry for cutting it off early… it was getting way too long. From now on I'm going to be working singularly on this story until it's finished though, so no worries. It won't take forever for the next update. What did you think though? Leave me a review and tell me! I wanna know what you thought of Itachi's personality, ala Bananafrappe! How about the sheer amount of emotions we had here? Were they overwhelming? Underexplored? Tell me! Any suggestions for anything I might have accidentally left out? Drop me a line and let me know! Write whatever you want, just don't forget to review! XD sorry for my exuberance, I just __**love**__ reviews. Well, on to the next update, and see ya later!_

Terms- (1) Aishiteru- I love you. (2) Aniki- older brother. (3) Otouto- younger brother


	6. Itachi: Year One

_Have I ever told you guys how much you inspire me? Just by reviewing, you spur me on to further "greatness". XD thank you so much. Anyway, here we are finally getting to year one, once again hosted by the infamous and unbelievably gorgeous Itachi Uchiha. As for the warning… Within shall be contained egregious amounts of grief, angst, self-depreciation, lustful and not entirely foundless fantasies, much cursing and heavy imbibing of alcohol. The rating of M is well earned by now, I should think. Anything else I need to say… nope. Onward, friends!_

_Dedication: To this, and all of my works, I dedicate to the most inspiring of all muses… Music. Without music, I would never have written a word. _

_Disclaimer: You'd think that after saying it once, people would know better than to assume that I am as awesome as Kishimoto-sama… because I am not, and thusly do not own Naruto, or his illustrious world._

_Special thanks: SymphoniaFreak, I thank you graciously for your advice. My story format is all the better for it._

* * *

Itachi: Year One

* * *

"Kisame, _please_ cease your pathetic gibbering. For the twenty-sixth, and _last_ time, the only reason that I have asked you to come is because I need someone to watch Roku while I go and help Sakura move. I need you to be a responsible adult, for _once_ in your life, and take care of him for no more than two hours. Feed him if he is hungry, clean him if he gets dirty… simple. If I return and find nothing wrong, I will deduct a fair amount from the money that you owe me. It's not like you have anything better to do until I finish my business, so I fail to see what the problem that has occupied our conversation for the past hour is."

The blue skinned, seven foot tall man that was reclining on my sofa glared over the back of it at me, waving a hand through the air and snorting.

"Sure, your _business_. Like we both don't know what you're really going to be doing while you're with the little flower girl," he said snidely, obviously offended by the thought that I was about to be going out and having sex while he watched my eleven month old son, and I rolled my eyes, turning my back on him and striding agitatedly over to the picture window that made up a large part of one of the walls of my suite, looking down on the scene far below with short temper and hands folded behind my back.

It was a gorgeous morning, the sun rising steadily in a cloudless and bright blue sky while people streamed busily along the sidewalks, cars weaving about each other on the road and buses inching along in the early morning traffic. Just another day in the City That Never Sleeps for them… but for me and my indisposed sister in law, it was a monumentous occasion.

For Sakura, she would be taking a huge step in her "recovery", as I had so deemed it in my mind, by signing the deed to her home over to the family that had bought it. I myself would then welcome her into my own home, making her as comfortable as I could, before taking a step back and acting every part the uncaring man I should be in her eyes.

Gritting my teeth as Kisame gave yet another long suffering sigh in the background, I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose to ease the pain gathering quickly in my temples from being in the presence of my obnoxious friend. It had been necessary to call him over so that my youngest son had someone to watch him; while Kenji was currently at school, Roku was much too young to start even daycare, and I couldn't take him with me because I would be packing boxes into the already cramped inside of my car.

The house sitter I had hired two weeks ago was unnecessary now that Sakura would be living here and though she would be coming to get her last paycheck shortly, I would not ask her to work on such short notice.

As such, I had _thought_ that it would be a good idea to ask for some help from Kisame, imagining that he would be acquiescing since I had kindly spared his life after his theft, only requiring him to repay his debt in full sometime before he died and to take care of any of the more unsavory jobs at the station that I deemed worthy of him, but the fact that I had been reduced to begging to get him to comply showed that he was more than willing to throw my generosity back in my face.

This was not to mention the fact that he was making me abominably _late_.

My lip curled at the thought, and I reopened my eyes to stare angrily at a water mark on the outside of the glass I stood in front of. While it wasn't necessarily true that I had to be at Sakura's side when she signed over her home, I had wanted to be. I wanted her to remember that I had been there for her in her time of need, that I had been the one with her while she did the hardest thing she's ever had to do. I wanted that place in her heart more desperately than anything else.

I knew that I couldn't have the place that I truly desired, a place reserved only for my brother now… but I would take what I could of what she was willing to give.

My desires had been ultimately ignored though, naturally, and now there was absolutely no chance in hell I would make it in time for anything but helping her move her remaining belongings. As such, I saw it as a waste of time to try to divert his attention since my time was already being squandered away, and had no remaining patience with putting up with his criticizing.

The only way I would get out of this without potentially harming him for inconveniencing me was to insult his intelligence and make my escape before he realized it.

Turning to match Kisame's glare with one of my own, I folded my arms across my chest firmly.

"You are being preposterous. You know as well as I that my only goal in going to Sakura's home today is to help her move. Your fantasies are completely and utterly absurd," I said blandly, my tone of voice quite obviously stating that my logic was undeniable, his was ludicrous, and that there was to be no more conversation on the matter. Unfortunately, he ignored my subtle hint to drop the subject and snorted, heaving himself from my couch with an ungainly grunt.

"It's not _my_ fantasies that make me all starry eyed and slack jawed around the girl, are they?" he said with heavy significance, now facing me head on, and I clenched my jaw tightly.

He was right, of course… my thoughts on Sakura were the impure and poisonous reason for his assumptions. It had been the worst mistake I've ever made in my life to let him find out about my feelings, a product of being far too obvious and far too oblivious to how shrewd the man could be when he felt like it, and I would regret the passing of the knowledge for the rest of my life if he had anything to say about it. I had yet to admit that he was right in his guesses as to my attentions to my sister in law, but it was not as though he needed me to.

Pent up lust and unbearable longing are difficult things to hide from a man who spends half of his time looking for ways to humiliate me.

"Believe what you will. I have to go, however, so feel free to find someone else to bother with your notions," I said as I turned and walked across the room, brushing past my friend's form with a dismissive hand wave.

Lifting my coat from its hook on my coat rack, I shouldered into it with a triumphant smirk, taking Kisame's silence to be acquiescence. Finally, he was seeing that I was…

"It must be hard."

Eyebrows furrowing, I looked over my shoulder at him, confused by his contemplative tone and expressionless demeanor. "What is?" I asked when I could think of nothing that his question could apply to, and he shrugged, looking down and picking at his fingernails.

"Sacrificing what you want so that someone else can be happy. Pretending to be something that you aren't. It just seems hard. A lot harder than accepting the truth and letting things unfold how they should. It's not something that I would ever want to go through myself."

My eyes widened slightly as I realized what his poignant answer indicated about the level of his understanding of my predicament, but when I turned to him and opened my mouth to inquire further, he raised his hand, shaking his head and grinning at me snarkily.

"Don't worry about it, 'Tachi. Just thinking about life's conundrums and all. Wasn't taking about anyone in particular, so no need to get your boxers in a bunch. Go help Pinky move. I'll watch the brat," he said before exiting the room through the doorway leading to my office without a backwards glance, leaving me staring after him in a bewildered haze.

Naturally, I wasn't fooled by his denial of talking directly about myself; his comment had been far too specified to be as random as he had said. I wasn't all that worried about his abstract knowledge of my innermost pain and suffering… but I _was_ concerned about his meaning. Did his words have merit? Was it possible to avoid the pain I would be foisting on myself by simply letting the pieces of my dreams fall into place?

It seemed so, in the light of his proclamation… but it couldn't be that easy. I wouldn't be doing this if there was another way. I wanted much, needed fulfillment and craved reciprocation for the love I had felt for what seemed like ages… but I could not force Sakura to love me back.

She had shown me, without an ounce of remorse, that there was no more room for me in her heart. It was full, Sasuke consuming every space that I required to move a relationship with her forward.

Throat tight and heart heavy, I turned back to my front door and pulled it open silently, checking my pockets for the necessary keys and wallet that I would need for driving before locking the door behind me and pulling it closed just as quietly. I had been over this problem more than once in my mind, so I should not still be so affected by the ending I always came to… but I was, and I always would be.

It seemed an impossible hardship, my loving the only person in the world that would not have me. Propriety demanded that I leave the subject alone, to take happiness in what I still had, my friendly relationship with the woman and the love of my children… but I could not, seemingly, be content.

Was it really so selfish to want reciprocation for feelings that had consumed my soul for longer than anything has ever possessed me?

Sighing heavily, I strode over to the taciturn doors of the elevator that would take me down the length of the building and pressed the button beside the entrance. I did not know how I could fix this problem. It was disconcerting, truly; I always had the perfect answer to my troubles. There was nothing that I could not find a solution for.

But in this, I was lost.

There seemed no way that I could move forward without destroying what I still had, and there was no way to go backwards. I couldn't ignore the problem…

And so I was avoiding it.

A tight, bitter smirk lifted my lips up, and I shook my head in virulent amusement. It wasn't really a solution, what I intended to do… it was the coward's path. It required nothing from me, or her, but the ability to stand each other's presence for as long as we would be around each other. It was not difficult, it was not demanding or testing… and I didn't want to do it.

It seemed ridiculous having to go to such lengths to allow someone else happiness while I suffered. It grated against my very genetic code, my human nature. People were not meant to gain nothing from a transaction and be fine with it. I was being cheated... but it was for the best.

For her… I would sacrifice everything I had. Even my own happiness.

A light and cheerful ding heralded the elevator finally reaching my floor, and I looked up to watch the doors open for me expressionlessly before stepping forward and into the confined space. Kisame was right, as per his unknowing usual. It was going to be hard, living with Sakura.

_Much_ harder than it should have to be.

Things should flow alright, as long as she cooperated with my efforts to keep her from slipping back into her depression, if she never guessed that the bedroom she would be staying in was one away from the one I wished she was in… and as long as I could do what I needed to do and not give in to my deeper desires.

Pressing the button that would take me down to the lobby, I stepped back and stuffed my hands into my pockets while waiting for the elevator to begin its descent. I tried to think of nothing as I did so, a pastime that I was often incapable of because of the many fond memories of various places that I had been with my beautiful sister in law that I had. Instead of succeeding in my maneuver, I began to think of how Sakura had looked on her high school graduation day, riding down with me in this same elevator so that she wouldn't fall down the stairs in her heels.

She has a paralyzing and all-consuming fear of elevators, but had bravely endured it to come show me the dress she had found to wear for the after party I had planned for her. The silvery, clinging material had been torture enough, offering me views of skin that had before only been ponderings of my imagination, but when she had clung to my side fearfully on our way down, her eyes wide with her fear and her soft, barely clad body pressing against me while I held her and whispered soothing condolences in her ear…

I am only a man, and the reaction I had was anatomically expected. Of course I was embarrassed, and was forced through the discomfort of having to let my arousal go unsatisfied, but I will forever be grateful for her lack of knowledge on the subject of my interests.

If she had known that I been thinking of lifting her against the wall of the elevator that she hated so much and taking her body for my own…

I shook my head to clear the images that sprung to mind away as the machine I stood within came to an early halt at the floor beneath mine, swallowing heavily and stepping to the side to let whoever was about to board have some personal space of their own while beating back the suffocating warmth clawing up my throat and the tight curling in my abdomen that arose in response to Sakura's recalled, half bared body.

I knew better than to think like this… it would get me nothing but pain and an unresolved, humiliating erection.

Clearing my throat and at last successfully replacing the incredibly attractive images floating through my mind with mundane contemplations of what the weather would be like this weekend, I nodded mutely at the brunette male that entered from the recently reached floor and bowed respectfully to the wizened old woman who came in after him, immediately reaching out to take the heavy knapsack she was carrying from her (it was more than obvious that it was weighty, from the way that she held it to the way the seams of the bag were stretching).

She gave me a reproving look as she came to stand next to me, leaning heavily on her twisted cane and raising a thin eyebrow behind her thick glasses.

"Uchiha-san, I am not so frail that I cannot carry my own bag of knitting," she admonished lightly, attempting to reach for her bag at the same time.

I shrugged minutely, offering her a completely unapologetic smile before slinging the hefty bag over the shoulder farthest from her while ignoring the elevator doors closing and the strange looks I was getting from the other male on the machine.

"Unless you are knitting a suit of chainmail, Shizuka-sama, I am afraid that you are relocating something other than what you say… and I am not so uncouth as to let the esteemed owner of the building and a personal friend carry a bag that weighs more than they do when I myself am unburdened," I replied while giving her a look that mirrored her own, and she shrugged as well before leaning over to me, holding a hand next to her mouth.

"As far as my great grandchildren's parents are concerned, it _is_ only knitting," she whispered before giving me a sly wink, and I laughed quietly.

"They will be most surprised by what they find their children in possession of after you depart, I am sure."

She nodded sagely before turning to me fully and appraising me in the way only a mother can, instantly putting me on my guard. Her eyes were keen and sharp, even in her old age, and she saw much… not always in the way of the physical.

"But it seems as though you _are_ burdened by something today, Itachi-san. Care to allow me to help you with your load as well?" she queried softly, and I looked away towards the lights over the door leading out of the elevator, watching the numbers tick down slowly but surely while withholding the nervous flutters in my abdomen.

Mitsuki Shizuka, the aged, wise, and incredibly nosy lady standing beside me, was one of the few people that I ever felt unnerved around. She always seemed to know what I was thinking, what was wrong or even what was right. An old friend of the family and someone I had known since before I could remember, she had made it a point to offer me the best suite in her apartment building when I had begun looking for a place for myself and my wife to live in specifically so that she could come over at least four times a week and "see how I was doing", or so she claimed.

She refused to allow me to have any secrets with her, and despite the fact that I had somehow managed to withhold the fact that I was in love with my sister in law, she did know that Alora had not been the only woman in my considerations. There had been no point in hiding it once she knew, so I had admitted it to her in confidence. There was no harm in that, since she would not know it was my sister in law I had fallen for even if she saw Sakura.

I had not made the mistake of fully describing them both.

After a few silent moments, I let my gaze drop into a conceding nod, clenching my fingers tighter around the strap of the bag I held.

"She needs my help. She became even more depressed, after her husband died, and last week when I went to see her… it was terrible. She hadn't been eating, sleeping… she hadn't left the house unless she had to. I've never been more afraid, at least not in the same way… because if I lost her too…" I felt myself losing control of my voice as I ventured into forbidden territory, and cleared my throat again, shaking my head and taking a deep, steadying breath before continuing.

"I'm helping her get better. She's going to be living with me for a while, so you'll probably meet her sooner or later," I finished lamely, and she looked skeptical of something I had said, tilting her head and thinning her lips.

Of course I didn't have to specify who I was talking about, or most of what had happened recently (she had already forced that information out of me and knew that most of my problems hinged on the guilt I had over loving and lusting for a woman that I shouldn't… if she only knew exactly how wrong it truly was), but she must have some reason to look that way.

After looking me over shortly, she suddenly looked triumphant, putting her free hand on her hip and looking over the rim of her glasses at me.

"Sure, it's a terrible thing for the poor dear to be so depressed, but I see no reason for your long face in your excuse. You're leaving something out," she stated poignantly, and I sighed, at the same time hoping to any god listening that her curiosity would not probe her to delve further once I offered my justification.

Knowing I had been rejected was bad enough, but having to admit it… I wasn't ready.

"You know me better than most, Shizuka-sama. I leave nothing out when I speak with you. What reason would I have?" I queried, adding an edge of hurt to my voice, and she rolled her eyes before poking a finger into my chest, glaring at me in faux anger over her spectacles.

"Because you know what a gossipy old biddy I am, child. Of all the things you have ever been accused of, I will never hear you called unintelligent, and you know the value of well kept secrets. Fine, have it your way. If you need help though, Itachi-san… you know that you can come to me," she finished in a soft voice, and I smiled at her in appeasement, trusting in my ability to handle my own problems and knowing that she knew it too.

After the tense feeling had passed I spoke of my children and their accomplishments with the old woman on our remaining journey down the building together, and she told me, in reciprocation, about her grandchildren and what nuisances they seemed to be at times. The reason for her heavy and hidden gifts was explained at this time; one of the children had had a birthday the weekend last and the other two children were immensely jealous of the new toys they weren't allowed to play with.

Pitying them, my friend had acquired new toys for the both of them so they would not feel left out, and was on her way to deliver them now. She asked where I was headed in correspondence, but I turned the subject to considerations of the mediocrity of our government's efforts to pass a law regarding Social Security benefits being cut short.

This was a worthy and sensible distraction, because the impassioned discussion that we delved into completely distracted the wise elder from the fact that I had avoided her question. The heated and almost argumentative debate lasted all the way down the length of the building and halfway through the lobby before I politely broke away from the conversation, excusing myself as I had business at the front counter to conduct.

She wished me a good day and told me that she would be back soon, and would keep an eye out for my housekeeper if she returned before I did. I was thankful for this, as it would save me the trouble of any potential tears from the easily affected woman, and told her of my gratitude before I waved her through the doors into the parking garage, thereafter smirking to myself at the largely smooth manner I had handled the potentially dangerous conversation.

As much as I hated lying to lifelong friends and erstwhile confidants… my private affairs were my own, especially when they were, indeed, affairs.

Snorting softly and shaking my head, I turned on my heel and strode purposefully over to the front desk, beyond which two men were leaning over a computer monitor and conversing in hushed tones. Only one was of immediate recognition to me; the bright orange, swirling mask that obscured the whole of his visage but for a hole over his right eye would stick out in any crowd, and I had had enough run ins with the childish man to be familiar with the excited tenor of his voice.

This man, dubbed Tobi by the nametag displayed proudly on the breast of his suit and by his refusal to speak in anything but the third person, was known to me as the usual daytime doorman, but the man standing beside him, a perhaps twenty five or twenty six year old with dull red hair shorn long around his ears, intelligent and calculating brown eyes, and a light, dulcet voice was not.

Upon closer inspection he was revealed to be wearing a suit much similar to Tobi's, though was not possessing of a tag announcing his given name, and from this I could supposition that he was the man that had been hired to replace Deidara, following his dismissal from the service of the apartment complex a week previous.

My nose wrinkled unconsciously as I thought of the man, my jaw clenching minutely before I shoved the consideration away forcefully. My anger over my wife's betrayal and the former doorman's interference had not abated in the least in the seven days that had passed since discovering the life altering secret they had kept, and thinking on the subject for longer than a moment was detrimental to any effort to remain a freely willed, rational human being.

I had taken great pleasure in bringing Deidara Iwa's actions to the attention of his superior, ensuring that the full brunt of my ire was conveyed and demanding that he be fired for his indiscretion.

The very next day the man had been gone, and while I had been extremely satisfied at seeing the back of him, it had not seemed enough. I had desired to blacklist him as well, using my powerful and well respected status to prevent him from getting even the most humble of jobs anywhere within the states of New York, New Jersey, and all the surrounding provinces as well, but had stayed my vengeful hand at the last moment.

I wanted him to feel the pain of what he had done for the rest of his life, but this was not the person that I was. I was not an evil, ruthless man that took his pleasure in the suffering of others. I had a certain amount of self-respect that I liked to retain, and this maneuver would completely destroy that. Besides…

Sakura would not have approved of my actions.

It was largely for the last reason that I had dropped the subject, shredding the already legalized and signed papers that would abolish the man's livelihood irreparably. Yes, I had been shunted to the side in favor of her deceased lover. Yes, I was being forced to pretend to feel nothing but the least of all emotions for her. But that didn't stop me from wanting her to think the best of me.

Even when she already respected me, even when she held me in a regard so high that I didn't even have to ask to know that she did, with the way that she looked at me when I had done something great in my line of work or for my family, I still wanted to impress her. I wanted to prove to her, even though the words would never be spoken and the concept was impossible, that I was worth her time and her affections.

It might have been foolish, with the standing of friend and brother that I held in her eyes, but I could not help myself. Love is a powerful motivator, a force that can move mountains just as easily as air, and even the hardest of hearts could fall prey to it.

It was only natural to want to please the person that you love most in the world.

Bitter and discontented by the subject, I took the last few steps required to come up to the front desk before stopping without any of the emotions I was being ravaged by showing on my face, waiting patiently for the preoccupied men to notice my presence.

The red haired man was quick to see me, obviously having been keeping an eye out for anyone needing help while at the same time being instructed as to the finer points of his station, and immediately straightened to face me, his gaze flickering over my form before he offered me a placating smile.

"Good morning, sir. I am sorry if you have waited long. How can I be of assistance?" he stated, and I barely restrained a raised eyebrow. He seemed to take his job seriously… that would be a change.

"In a moment. I am afraid that I do not know you, and I like to make a point of meeting the people hired to guard my home before trusting them to their job," I laid out plainly, and the man nodded in understanding before elbowing the inattentive man next to him conspicuously, giving a pointed nod in my direction when Tobi looked up.

"Introductions are in order, I think," he suggested in a low, polite voice, and Tobi seemed to very suddenly notice that I was there with them at that moment, springing up to attention and speeding around the edge of the desk so quickly that I looked down to see if he was wearing roller skates. My hand was seized and shaken enthusiastically as soon as the excitable doorman had skidded to a halt in front of me, gaze directed up at me and manner suggesting complete and total giddiness.

"It is a pleasure, Mr. Uchiha sir! Tobi is so happy to meet you! Tobi's name is Tobi, and welcome to the Broadway Garden apartment complex!" he all but shouted, continuing to shake my hand even though the greeting had been completed, and I rolled my eyes before pulling myself from his grasp, gesturing over his shoulder impatiently.

"Yes, indeed. The welcome would be needed if I didn't already live here, and hadn't already met you. I have not, however, met the man behind you and it was he that I have requested an introduction to," I said with as much restraint as I could, having little patience when dealing with the man despite the obviousness of his mental instability (unless I was vastly mistaken and he acted this way on purpose), and Tobi gave a start and looked over his shoulder at the red haired man, who bore a look of long suffering that told me, in few words and with much understanding, that he had been dealing with this behavior for almost as long as his own patience allowed.

The man gasped in realization before darting around the edge of the desk again, grabbed on to the collar of the new doorman's suit, and returned speedily, dragging the reluctant and protesting man with him.

"Here he is, Mr. Uchiha sir! Tobi is happy to introduce Sasori, since we are friends! And friends always introduce each other! Friends also eat popcorn together, but Sasori told Tobi that eating popcorn at work was bad manners. It's okay though; Tobi will eat it later when Tobi is not at work," Tobi exclaimed happily, swinging the newly announced man around to face me, and he regained his posture with a little difficulty before observably repressing a glower, reaching up to straighten his collar pridefully before holding out his hand and giving me a sarcastically tolerant look, partnered with a heavy but inaudible sigh.

"I'm sorry for all that. My full name is Sasori Akasuna; I will be taking over Deidara Iwa's duties from now on. I apologize; I would have had a name tag to introduce me, but my partner did something to the printer program and we were just now trying to figure out what," he explained, shaking my hand firmly, and I smiled wanly at his obvious exasperation with the man he had been partnered with.

Feeling a connection with the man, at least over this subject, I felt inclined to be a little more forgiving than I normally would and let my perfunctory smile grow into an honest one, shaking this Sasori's hand in return. I was about to introduce myself as well when Tobi made his presence known again, leaning around Sasori's shoulder like he had emerged from his flesh.

"Tobi forgot to say! Sasori, Mr. Uchiha's name is Itachi. Tobi also knows that he is the chief of the police department, and of the SWAT team too! Mr. Uchiha is a very important person," he said very quickly, gazing over at me in a way that suggested awe, and Sasori gained a mildly impressed light to his eye, looking me over with a new sort of appraisal as he released my hand and took a courteous step back.

I was used to such inspections, and was not bothered by it as long as he knew better than to be disbelieving and push his luck with me; as Kisame had once put to me, I looked like too much of a "pansy pretty boy" to be such a dangerous and highly officiated man, but I was more than willing to prove that looks can be deceiving. My friend was not justly doubtful of me, as he knew the extent of my physical prowess perfectly well, but to any who were truly uncertain...

I had my ways of demonstrating my worth.

"It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Uchiha. I am sure that you are more than capable of protecting your own home, with due allowance paid to your station, but rest assured that I will watch over it in your absence," Sasori stated with a respectful air, and I inclined my head.

"Just as well. I hope you do not disappoint as your predecessor did. But I did not come to harry you; I actually have a purpose for interrupting."

He looked interested as Tobi scurried out from behind him, bored by the conversation, and went over to look intently at the screen of the computer again. "Anything that I can help with would be a pleasure," he offered, and I snorted, folding my arms.

"I would recommend not agreeing to anything before you hear it in this city, Mr. Akasuna. Most are not loath to deceive, and you may find yourself roped into something that you regret. In this case, however, you will not suffer for your blind trust; I only require, upon my return, some assistance with moving. I am, for a time, going to be housing my recently deceased brother's wife, and she will have a few boxes that she will not be able to unload by herself. I will also need a proficient driver to move her car to the space I have reserved for her. I would like to believe that you are capable in both aspects…" I trailed off, waiting for the appropriate response, and he nodded mutely, his eyebrows furrowing at the news that my brother had passed away.

"My condolences over your and your sister in law's loss. Of course I will help you, though depending on when you return, I may be the only one here anyway. Tobi is only staying long enough to show me which of the keys go where and to fix the printer," he explained, and I nodded as well, shrugging the sleeve of my coat back and glancing at my watch before sighing at the revealed hour.

"Thank you, on both fronts. I shouldn't be more than two hours. Also, if you see a seven foot tall man with blue skin come through here, call the number that is registered under my name in the computers. I will want to know, as the man is supposed to be watching my youngest son."

One of his thin, red eyebrows raised in response, obviously wondering why someone that I would trust with my progeny but at the same time doubted would be leaving without the child he was caring for, and why in the world he would have blue skin, for that matter, but I left the silent questions in his eyes unanswered and instead turned to hurry out the door located beside the desk, the time later than I had planned on it being.

There was no hope in thinking that Sakura would have postponed the signing of her deed, and I was sure that I had missed it by now. Hopefully she hadn't been waiting long, or she was signing it as I thought of it, and wouldn't become so impatient that she tried to move all of her possessions herself.

She was gifted with large stores of tolerance, but even those would wane in the bitter cold of winter.

Emerging from the building into the cool, wind gusted corridors of the parking garage, I reached down to button my coat as I walked, gait unwavering as I knew perfectly well where my car was parked, and thought of as little as I could manage to continue functioning.

Following a familiar path, driving a familiar car and going a familiar direction were comforting and thoughtless activities, and I could allow myself the space to resist my demons while doing them, indulging because of the weight of my usual considerations.

All I seemed to think of anymore were gut wrenching and troubling difficulties; the rejection I had suffered, the loss I had to endure, the betrayal I had been forced to accept, the reality of my many failures and shortcomings… they were all too much to have on my mind constantly, and yet they remained.

It was rare that I could find enough peace to have room in my head, the ability to turn away my thoughts even an iota from my constant torment, and any chance that I could get, I took advantage of.

Would anyone not, in my place?

The drive was not as difficult as it would have been had I left earlier, as most of the traffic was left to the proficient cab drivers, now that most were at work, and the thoroughfare was easy to pick through.

There was some difficulty at one of the intersections close to Sakura's neighborhood, as someone had decided that it would be a good idea to drive a tractor into the city and had broken down in the middle of the turning lane, but there happened, on a happy chance, to be a towing service on the same corner and the problem was sorted out quickly, much to my and my fellow drivers' relief.

It did make me even later than I had been when leaving the apartment building, however, and with worry over a vision of Sakura straining her back trying to lift a couch in my mind's eye weighing on my conscience, I pressed my foot to the accelerator a little harder than I normally would have when speeding past gradually smaller side streets and turnabouts, rushing as I shouldn't have had to so that I could come to Sakura's aid.

A white knight I may not be, due to my unrighteous desires and ignoble actions, but I could not, with sound morality, leave a woman to do a man's job… especially this woman.

Pulling around the corner at a faster speed than I should have, the tiny blue cottage finally came into view, Sakura standing in front like a beacon in a dark, frozen wasteland. Just seeing her again, despite the fact that it had only been mere hours since I had last been with her (thirteen hours and twenty three minutes to be exact), made my heart rise within my chest and bled warmth all through my body.

It was a reflex to smile in response to the feelings, to let them wash over me and consume every iota of my regard, and I almost did before I remembered; I could no longer act that way, not where she could see. I had to be everything that I had promised myself. Unaffected, aloof, cold…

Platonic…

Swallowing to get the sudden uncomfortable lump from my throat, I reluctantly pushed the familiar and comforting feelings clamoring in my chest to the side and firmed my determination. I had to stay strong… this wasn't for my well-being. This was for her. This was how she wanted it, and it was how she would get it.

Narrowing my eyes, I nodded minutely and turned my attention away from the growing form of my sister in law, looking instead at the boxes and bags stacked neatly beside her. I had been correct in my assumptions, apparently… she had already signed over the deed and was awaiting my arrival so I could help her move her last few…

Wait.

My eyebrows furrowed as I took stock of just how little she seemed to have, pulling up at the steep curb and turning my car off. The pile of carefully stacked objects rose no higher than her stature, and she was of no great height.

I hadn't realized that she had kept almost none of her possessions; when I had been helping her clean out the house, handling all of the things she hadn't been able to bear and taking all the things that she hadn't needed anymore to a local charity, she hadn't told me that she was getting rid of all but the bare minimum. If I had known what she was doing, I would have made her keep more.

There was nothing for it now, but perhaps I would be able to replace some of it… in the way and direction of a friend intervening, of course. She could not look down upon me giving her back things she had discarded, this time free of painful memories and meaning, at least to her… and doing so, in such a manner, would circumvent any kind of romantic connotation.

She would not have to know that I would love her accepting such gifts more than was acceptable.

Smirking to myself as I got out of my car and closed the door behind me, I looked over Sakura for a few seconds before forcedly turning my gaze away, looking once again at the boxes piled on the sidewalk with that damnable half smile glued to my lips. I had to do so with force because if I had not, the scarf she wore would have driven me into a rage.

I had seen that accessory far too many times to forget whose it was and what it meant… after all, my brother was not a man of change, and had worn that scarf for many years… longer than I had known that I loved his intended bride.

Time had changed much since the day he had first walked through my front door with Sakura in tow, thereafter accidentally slamming the material in the jamb and ripping it nearly in half. I had not needed to ask why he kept it, even though it was ruined and he could more than afford a new one; he had wanted to remember that day, the moment when the girl had first worried over his well-being in asking if he had been hurt, and had continued to wear it as a memento. It was a mockery now, in my eyes… a reminder that even in death, Sasuke had dominion over Sakura's heart.

He who laughs last laughs best, as they say, and in all the ways that mattered, Sasuke had had the last laugh.

"Are you ready?" I asked quietly, voice muted so my bitter resentment wouldn't carry through my words, and she nodded wordlessly in response before reaching over and snagging the very top box off of the pile beside her, her back bowing backwards as she lifted it with obvious strain and carried it to her car.

Frowning at the way that she was carrying such a heavy burden, I made my way over to the pile as well, critically judging and sorting through it before separating the heaviest boxes and bags from the lightest, discretely placing the lighter pile closer to Sakura's car so that she would unconsciously go for those instead of the ones that she would most likely injure herself trying to carry.

It was not as though I wanted to baby her (even though this was as true as any assumption that could be made)… I was just looking out for her. If she noticed, it would not be something that would concern her as to my intentions; only her pride over her own strengths would be wounded.

Friends eased burdens on each other if they cared as she knew I did; even if it did mean something more to me, she had no reason to think that it did.

We worked in silence for a good thirty or forty minutes, arranging and rearranging the boxes so that we would be able to fit as much as we could and also be able to see out of our rear windows while we drove. While I was content with this, and had no real desire to break the quiet with an attempt to make awkward conversation when she was obviously in pain at having to leave her home, I noticed, during my many cursory glances over at her (I looked over every few minutes to make sure that she was doing alright, wasn't lifting anything too heavy for her, hadn't hurt herself on anything), that Sakura seemed to be struggling to find a way to say something.

She would look over at me occasionally, though I did not meet her gaze when she did so, and would open and close her mouth a few times, her expression heavy and conflicted, before she would turn back to her work for another short period before returning to staring.

Almost all of her belongings were loaded in our cars before she finally found, I assumed, the courage to ask what she was stewing over. I was slightly affronted that it had taken so long, as she should have no knowing reason to be afraid of telling me anything, but let my offense go so I could listen objectively.

"Itachi…" she started quietly after she had been toeing at the edge of the curb silently for the past few minutes, standing between the trunk of my car and the hood of hers and looking over at me with her lower lip caught between her teeth. "Would it be okay if I wrote you a check for the house money? I don't know if the bank will give it to me in cash."

I didn't immediately understand what she meant as I stood back up to my full height, the box full of books that I had just loaded into my back seat having required a low posture of me, and my eyebrows furrowed as I turned to look fully on her diverged and nervous expression.

We had spoken in length about the living arrangements we would be appropriating, laying out fine details for room, board, and anything else we could come up with to discuss on the matter except for the length of time she would be staying, and I had denied any and all suggestions that she would pay a part of my monthly lease or donate any sort of money towards living expenses.

It gave me great pleasure to think that I would be providing for her while she stayed with me, and nothing she had been able to protest regarding the subject would sway my judgment. I couldn't fathom what she could be referring to otherwise, even though I had ended the conversation quite finally the last time we had spoken of it, but imagined that if I hazarded a guess at her meaning, she would either confirm my thoughts or offer me her real meaning.

With this in mind, I cocked my head to the side and raised an eyebrow in a show of blatant confusion, paying as little attention as I was able to the light filtering through her hair and eyelashes as it lit the heights of her cheekbones, caressing the fair skin there in a way that I would never be able to.

"What house money? We already established that you aren't going to be paying me rent for living with me and the kids," I stated with as much significance as I was able (which was quite a lot), and was relieved to find that my assumption was correct, if I could take Sakura's sarcastic eye roll, impatient scoff, and exaggerated gesture behind me as any indication.

"This house money," she said with exasperation layering her tone, her waved hand indicating the house she had just divested herself of, and as soon as her meaning was clear, I found myself assaulted by something that I had never been accosted by while with the still sickly and frail girl before me; I was actually _insulted_.

She wanted to give me back the money I had paid for her house? Didn't she understand that it belonged to her? Did she think that, now that my brother was gone, I no longer wished for her to have it? To think that she thought so little of me… I had more class than that, even if I weren't desperate for her to have at least one thing of mine.

As my son had told me a few days ago, Indian givers were despicable creatures, and that if someone gave you something, it's yours forever until you give it away (Kenji had learned the principle in school that day and, when withholding one of his more beloved belongings from his brother instead of sharing it, had informed me of such a rule as a way to avoid punishment for his selfishness).

It felt childish to be thinking of the selling of a house in such a manner, but the standard was the same. Even though my gift had been converted into mere monetary effigy, it was still hers.

That she didn't seem to grasp this set my blood on fire. Why did she want to give it back? I had no need for the money; the addition of the several hundred thousand dollars she had received for the home would barely make any sort of bulge in my already well stocked accounts. I had never once asked for it, had never shown any sign of begrudging her for selling the house; I had been the one that told her she had to. Did she not want it anymore?

Was it because it was from _me_?

I should have known better than to think that; she was my friend, she trusted and respected me more than even she could say. She was reluctant to accept grand gestures of any sort, but I had given this to her and my brother as a wedding gift. She wouldn't have turned it away, even if she hated me. But in my shock and building anger over her words, I could not, for the life of me, remember those facts. She was spurning me, _again_…

And I would _not_ accept it laying down this time.

As she continued to murmur something further in explanation of her reasoning, her hands clasped together in front of her in earnest and her gaze not exactly meeting mine, my eyes narrowed into a glare of pure venom, resentment and hurt over her denial of one of the few things I had ever given her rising so quickly I was left breathless.

She noticed my fury immediately, stuttering to a halt and looking up at me with wide, frightened eyes while at the same time taking a step back, bumping into the letterbox that had once belonged to her.

"That offends me, Sakura," I growled as I took a step forwards in reciprocation, towering over her and deftly ignoring the discomfort I felt over intimidating her. She had to understand the severity of what she was saying.

"This was my gift to you and my brother, and as such, the money you get for selling it is yours as well. I want nothing to do with it and I don't want to hear another word about it," I finished, my voice gravely in my ire, and Sakura nodded quickly in response, obviously only concerned with appeasing me at the moment and forgetting completely about whatever it was that drove her to ask the question in the first place.

I allowed this, though it discomfited me to do so; I did not want her to fear me and only do what I wanted because of this fact. In this instance, however, I was too impassioned to care and since this was something of little import (at least in a general manner; it was of great significance to me, but many things that were of no consequence to most people were such to me, so my interest in the matter was not something out of the ordinary) and fleeting occurrence, it did not concern me greatly.

I was aware that, as soon as I turned back to my task of moving the last few boxes from the sidewalk in front of the small cottage, Sakura began to pout, her eyes narrowed indignantly at my back as she folded her arms and muttered under her breath, and I couldn't help the smirk that lifted my lips at her feeble rage over my forcing her to keep money she wouldn't need.

She had thrown many of these little tantrums in the time that we had been emptying her home and making the arrangements for her move, and I was never really concerned by them. They were passing and trivial, and she didn't know how to hold a grudge, especially for such small things.

I would have been more worried if she was truly angered, of course, though not to the point of backing down; the full brunt of her anger was not a small thing, and it had been known to cow even my brother, but the one time that I had ever been faced with it, I had been more than a match for her.

Arguing with her was more than just a battle of wills, though, and it was for this reasoning that I feared it. I had realized, only after a one sided argument over whether or not she should be allowed to ride the subway by herself, that I actually thought that she was _sexy_ while in the throes of anger.

I had been worried about her riding the subway when she came to me to tell me that she wanted to, afraid that she would be too easily cornered, coerced, or worse while alone in so dark and evil a place, and had forbidden her from doing so; she had resisted, so I had told my brother of her secret intentions and when he confronted her, she threw a fit.

Knowing full well who had betrayed her, she had come to my home and started a fight that had lasted for over an hour. I had been shocked at my thought process as she stood there yelling at me, astounded that I could think such things at such a time.

Her jaw had clenched and had drawn the skin of her cheeks tight, adding color to them like they had never gained before, her eyes had narrowed and sharpened, making her usual luminescent green gaze even brighter, her small lithe body had coiled as if about to attack, throwing into sharp relief exactly how softly she was formed and how much I wanted to truly understand what it would feel like to know her body for myself… how I had desired, while she told me off for revealing her plans before their fruition, to pull her to me, to stop up her foul little mouth (she had the bad habit of cursing while impassioned) with my own, to take her to my bed and show her who was the stronger in our relationship by dominating her so thoroughly that her head would spin.

The only thing that had saved me from ravaging her as she had screamed herself hoarse at me had been the tone of her voice and the sharpness of her words.

She had a biting tongue, her knowledge of me giving her insight of where exactly to prod to incite my ire, and she had not been loath to let me know what she thought of my action. I had not let myself be drawn into it more than to respond calmly to her accusations, as she had a right to her anger, but she had succeeded in making an unholy fire of unanswered retribution rise in me, and I had keenly remembered that day, storing it away in my memory as a monumental occurrence; she was the only woman, or even person (barring the fights I used to have with my father over my choice to join the police force instead of going into the family business), that had ever _dared_ to raise their voice to me.

I was a normally non-confrontational person, but that day I had wanted nothing more than to yell right back at her.

I could be an intimidating force when I chose to be, and I knew it, but I had never thought about the fact that I hadn't been confronted in such a manner for at least fifteen years before Sakura had started throwing the pillows on my couch at my head.

I found that I liked her veracity, despite the yearning it had raised within me that told me to forget propriety and fight back and the unquenchable lust that had sprung into life the instant she tested my patience, but I had not acted on my innermost desires and had avoided making her so angry from that point onwards.

The small temper tantrum she was throwing was nothing compared to that day, and as such I disregarded it, letting her stew in her offense while I completed the menial labor that there was left to do while the sun rose higher by the minute, nearly at the peak of the sky by now.

I was glad for the chill of the wind that blew and the mildness of the season; this would have been strenuous and arduous work under a warm spring or summer sun, and while I did not shirk from hard labor, that did not mean that I relished it.

The job was completed not long after Sakura had finally let go of her outrage, and when I turned back to face her, shutting the passenger door of my car with a crisp click, she was looking up at the house that no longer belonged to her, her shoulders slumped and tears trickling down her cheeks while the sounds of children's laughter and happily chatting voices rose from it.

Brow furrowing in concern, I walked quickly around my car's trunk and over to her side, looking down on her with empathy and care while at the same moment cursing myself as thoroughly as I was able. I had done this to her… I had made her leave the last thing that she had of Sasuke behind, besides the pictures I knew she had hidden in her belongings and some of the oldest things he had owned, so that she could be with me.

I was the most selfish, heartless, unforgivable human being I had ever had the misfortune of being confronted by, but even as I watched her standing forlorn and lost on the curb, shining and tearful eyes flicking over the roof and white picket fence in front of her, and even though I was hating myself as much as I could, I was unrepentant.

If I could go back and change things, I would not. Yes, I was self-interested. Yes, it was cruel of me, and I would be burdened by my guilt over it for the rest of my life. But I was just as lonely and hurt as she was, and I had decided that being miserable, at least on the subject of having her as near as I would allow her to be, was not something I wanted any longer. If I could find some sort of happiness by making my sister in law live with me, even though it pained her to leave her old home…

So be it.

Sakura's lower lip trembled as a pair of blonde, possibly four or five year old, children ran through the front yard, tossing a bright red ball between them and laughing hysterically, and my heart clenched. It was unfair that she had lost the chances that she had had to have a child of her own; I think that she would have been happier if she had even that vestige of my brother's memory.

That she had been robbed of such happiness made me wish that I could right that for her, thinking all of a sudden of one of the things that Sasuke had told me with his dying breaths…

"_Make her happy, Itachi. Give her everything that I couldn't…"_

It may not have been what he had meant, but it give rise to unbidden images, ones not of the act that would create a child as I was often embarrassed yet fascinated by, but by a picture of Sakura heavy with child; not with my brother's, as I had thought of before… but with mine.

A branch of cold desire for the truth of the depiction ran down my spine and seated itself in my stomach, bleeding shards of ice into every muscle in my body and lodging my throat closed so I couldn't draw a breath or swallow or do anything besides stare down at the woman beside me.

I had _never_ thought of such a thing before.

I loved her, I wanted her for my own, I had imagined and fantasized over taking her body with mine in every position and every possible location, but thinking of impregnating her, creating a child with her… this was serious.

It was not as though having sex with her wasn't, but a child? So much care and emotion and thought went into childcare, and though I knew that she would be more than capable of it…

Though she had every competence that a mother needed…

I blinked slowly, furrowing my eyebrows. I could think of nothing that I could offer as an exception to my thoughts. She would be a wonderful mother; she already was, to both of my sons, and I knew that she took care of some of her friend's children as well on occasion.

She was proficient, and wanted children, and had much of her life yet to live in which to have and raise them. I had no reservations over having another, could just imagine the pride of having her bear my offspring… and as I thought about it more, I slowly came to realize that I wanted this with a ferocity that took what was left of my breath away.

I now knew why I had held it against my brother so passionately for getting Sakura pregnant; he had invaded on a space that I had, unconsciously, already claimed as my own. I wanted to see her round with _my_ child, to find her waiting for my return from work with _my_ seed growing in her womb, to observe her holding a baby girl with her eyes but _my_ genes…

Fierce pride and frightfully powerful longing roared in my ears, begging me to make this dream a reality as soon as possible. What was the point in waiting? Surely there was no time to waste, and she was standing right there.

It would be an easy matter to tell her of my feelings, let her know how much I loved her and how desperately I wanted her to be mine in every sense of the word… except for the fact that she would not welcome the attention.

The feelings I was being held beneath vanished almost as quickly as they had come, replaced instantaneously by vicious and bitter understanding. I had no place but as her friend in her future. She did not want me, she had let me know that quite clearly. These wants, desires that I had foolishly let grow even greater, could never come to light.

I wanted to scoff at myself; I was a goddamn fool, more so than I could ever possibly convey.

Despite my cynicism over the subject, Sakura was still standing beside me and crying, helplessly astray over the loss of not just her husband, but of happy memories and hope and everything else that she had expected within the walls of the place she was leaving behind, and I found it within myself to overcome my resentment enough to reach out an arm and wrap it around her shoulders, drawing her against my side and offering the rock of my comfort for her to lean on.

She accepted the gesture almost without a thought, leaning against my side with a barely audible sigh and resting her head against my shoulder. I was intensely pleased by this, forgetting my troubles for the moment and simply indulging in the closeness of her presence, but all too soon she wiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks and pulled away, leaning out of my embrace and folding her arms around herself with her eyes downcast as she walked slowly over to her car door.

The look in her eyes as she looked down at the ground was confused and withdrawn, as if she had just done or felt something that she didn't fully understand, and I distinctly recalled her looking that way a few times during the week, a mysterious weight in her gaze that reminded me of when we had been standing in her kitchen following the decision for her to move in with me.

She was thinking of something that she couldn't comprehend and didn't want to consider, but it was obviously recurring and that bothered her. I wanted to know what it was, to help her with her difficulty if I could, but for some reason, I never said anything when she looked like that. I don't know why, but I had a feeling that it had something to do with me and if it was negative…

I was afraid of finding out.

As such, as I had done every other time, I let the occurrence pass without comment and took her actions as a sign that she was ready to leave, turning to walk back to my car and begin the trek back to my apartment.

I had been hoping to have the loading take a little longer, so that the drive back would be unhindered by the lunchtime traffic jams, but this expectation was destined for disappointment just as many of my others tended to be; we had been far too expeditious in our loading, due to Sakura having much fewer possessions than I had anticipated, and were now faced with the dragging and barely moving cars of the work force attempting to go to obtain their noon meal.

It was an onerous and boring experience, sitting unmoving in traffic for many long minutes before moving forward bare feet and then stopping again. I was numbered among the lucky few that were able to miss out on its joys on a daily basis, due to having most of the food I ate at work called in because I was either too busy to go out for lunch or was out of the building entirely on an investigation or SWAT mission.

In effect, since I did not normally have to deal with it, the slowly moving traffic and the hapless imbeciles I was driving with raised my already heated temper to a new high. My only condolence was that Sakura never managed to get separated from me as she drove carefully in my wake, her expression just as bored as mine whenever I looked in the rearview mirror to check that she was still there.

At one point she seemed amused by something as she stared straight ahead, her gaze flicking over, I assumed, my car, but I passed it off as something that she had heard on the radio and returned my attention to the road in front of me.

Soon (but not soon enough) we broke through the blockade of vehicles and pulled up in front of my apartment, and with a great deal of relief I emerged from my car (I felt that if one more, just _one_ more idiot had honked at me, I was going to do something not entirely proper and incredibly juvenile, employing a motion involving one of my least used digits and a few choice and very obscene explicatives), edging uncaringly along the side of the busily inching cars beside me before mounting the curb, glancing over at Sakura's car to make sure that she had gotten the message that we were stopping here, and went inside to acquire the previously requested assistance.

There was little difference between the frigid air outside and the cooled temperature within the lobby, besides a few degrees added in warmth from the heat of technology and the lack of wind indoors. I cared little for the consideration of why in _god's_ name someone had turned on the air conditioner in the middle of the winter, instead focused solely on my walk to the front desk.

Sasori had been correct in his assumption that he would be the only one present when I returned; now sporting a nametag on his neatly pressed suit jacket, he stood alone and was precisely reordering his desk, something that had not been done for some time if the candy wrappers and balled up pieces of paper he was scooping into the trash were any indication.

He looked up almost reflexively when I was a few footsteps away, stopping in the motion of wiping a layer of dust off of his computer screen, and immediately straightened up and came around the edge of the desk, looking expectant.

"You are ready for my help?" he queried, walking over to where the pull along trolleys were parked against a wall off to the side, and I nodded curtly, motioning over my shoulder wordlessly before turning and walking back the way I had come, followed closely by the new and seemingly, most impressively, reliable doorman.

Stepping outside and holding the door open so Sasori could push the cart through the opening without trouble, I watched as Sakura got out of her car and, quickly trailing along the edge of her car as close as she could get to it, joined us on the curb just as Sasori emerged from the building successfully, looking at my companion with furrowed eyebrows and confusion written all over her face.

"What happened to Deidara? He was here the last time I came," she asked point blank, looking distrustful of the man I was with as if he were an enemy, and my eyes narrowed unconsciously in response as I tugged the trolley from Sasori's grasp and walked over to Sakura's side, parking the cart next to the back door of her car while the corner of my mouth twitched down a centimeter.

I had forgotten that Sakura had been another of the detested ex-doorman's victims, having been the center of his attention and attempted charms more than once. She had told me that she merely passed off his comments and his flirtatious actions as cute, not being suspicious of his interests in the least, but Sasuke had flown into a rage every time he had to see the man, knowing perfectly well what he meant when he shot innuendos at Sakura and acknowledging that if he got a chance, he would take the best shot at sleeping with her that he could.

Another surge of sadistic pride at getting the man fired rushed through me, and I snorted softly in response to Sakura's question. If she knew what _Deidara_ had thought of doing to her, she wouldn't be so worried about him.

"He was relieved of his duties a week ago for conduct unbefitting. This is Mr. Akasuna, the new doorman," I said with as little inflection as possibly, trying to avoid letting my elation over the former doorman's dismissal carry through my words, and Sasori stepped up beside me, silent and calculating as he looked Sakura over.

Sakura raised an eyebrow at my bare explanation of Deidara being fired but said nothing about it, merely turning her attention to the red haired man at my side. Paying little mind to the man, though I probably should have and have regretted not doing so many times, I gestured in Sakura's direction in continuance of my introductions. "Mr. Akasuna, this is Sakura, my late brother's wife."

Sasori's gaze instantly moved down to her left hand, eyeing the ring still encasing her ring finger, before he nodded his head regally in her direction.

"Mrs. Uchiha," he allowed, respect heavy and significant in his voice, and seeing that they would either make conversation or go about unloading Sakura's car of their own accord, I left them to it and walked over to my own car, moving some of the boxes around so that I could grasp the sturdiest of them to begin the stack.

It was as I was turning back to the two, ready to put a box of what I assumed were cinderblocks on the cart, that I saw that Sasori was not paying as much attention to his task as he should be, instead content to gaze luridly at Sakura's backside as she bent over to pick up one of the black bags on the floor of her car.

The rapture and interest in his gaze were evident, the muscles in his arms tight as he obviously restrained himself, and it was all I could do to keep myself from wiping the lust from his eyes with the box I was carrying.

He had no right to look at _my_ flower like he was…

Just that one thought sobered me, however, and the rancor that I had felt earlier consumed me again. She wasn't _mine_. _I_ was the one that had no rights to her. This man was within his every right to look at her, to appreciate what she had to offer and to, potentially, take it for his own.

Acidic acrimony snarling my thoughts and feelings into knots, I brushed past him with a sneer layering my gaze, jealousy and heavy regret causing me to growl to myself unhappily as I went about unloading my car as quickly as I was able.

It wasn't fair that he should be able to look at her like that and be _allowed_ to while I had to be the noble one. I had to be the brother in law, the platonic confidant, the _friend_… why should I hide my unhappiness? Why should I not let my anger and bitterness out in a childish manner, acting out like a young boy who had not gotten his way?

The only bright spots of hope I had in the situation, as the looks of interest and the obvious confidence grew by the minute, were that if _I_ had no chance in wooing the girl away from her departed husband, then he would fare even worse, and that, as the friend and brother in law, it was my duty to warn him of what would happen if he pushed things too far.

It might be partially out of retribution and covetous prevention that I did such a thing, but I did not care and if my efforts sabotaged his own, I was fine with whatever I had to do.

My companions were not as quick about unloading Sakura's car as I was with my own, despite there being two of them and their loads being lighter, and the looks that Sakura shot me while I sped about in my growing disquiet and melancholy were curious but resigned, as if wondering what my pique was concerning but having suspicions and not being at all happy with them.

I would have liked to comfort her on the subject, but the answer was one she wouldn't want to hear. She wouldn't want to know of my jealousy as another man looked at her and brushed his fingers with hers on "accident" while reaching for the same box at the same time… no, she didn't need to know how pathetically I was acting.

She didn't need to know it was anything but thoughtless clumsiness that made me run over the new doorman's foot with the full cart as it was, at long last, finally filled with the rest of Sakura's belongings, and she had no reason to become aware of what I was muttering under my breath as I stalked back to my car and threw the door open agitatedly, slamming it closed with just as much tension.

Sakura was left to push the cart through the lobby and into the elevator from there by herself (I had given her the extra set of keys to my apartment before I left to move my car, carefully pointing out the keys that she would need to unlock the door), as I needed Sasori to drive her car to the space I had campaigned from one of my neighbors for her (located handily directly beside my own; the convenience had required much negotiation with the neighbor two floors down, but the bribe I had offered to the insufferable man had softened the deal), and while I sympathized with the fear she would feel while being forced to take what she referred to as a death trap, I was too embroiled in my own thoughts and swirling emotions to give it much consideration.

I was trying to think of what I could say to the man driving behind me so that he would get the message that Sakura was off limits, but not of any interest of mine, and was weighing the words that spun through my mind carefully, trying to see them from any outsider's point of view.

I was foiled again and again, always seeing ways that my statements could be taken as defensive maneuvers to shield my mate from another's advances, and while this was, in a very basic sense, what I was attempting to do…

This man had no need to know that I wanted my sister in law.

The drive was too short to give me as much time as I obviously needed to summon a worthwhile and innocent speech, and when I had pulled into my parking space I was still at a loss. I had to say something, but I didn't have a clue as to how to go about it without giving the wrong (as far as he was aware) impression.

I never began a conversation without knowing how to proceed; that was foolish and just asking for coercion to be forced upon you. I had little choice in the matter, however; Sasori had parked as well, had gotten out of Sakura's car, and was waiting for me.

Mind still seeking desperately for the correct way to go about this, I pushed my door open and got out, pridefully smoothing a wrinkle from my coat's sleeve and straightening my tie before closing the door with a final sounding clasp and walking over to Sasori's side. He handed Sakura's car keys to me without reservation, giving me a respectful nod.

"I hope the moving in process goes well, and that Sakura overcomes her grief soon. She seems a nice and happy girl, but loss will harden all in the end," he said profoundly, and my gaze narrowed.

They were on a first name basis already? It was like Sakura to insist on being referred to by her first name, as she hated formality more than almost anything else (besides the heat of deep summer and gouda cheese), but it rubbed me the wrong way to hear that she had done so with this man.

I needed to put a stop to this.

Sasori was turning to take his leave of me, intent to return to his duties obvious, but I cleared my throat loudly, recalling his attention. "A word, if you would," I said, beckoning him back, and he walked back over with a curious light in his eye.

Snorting at his blasé show emotion (I crowed on the inside, pride at my surreptitious and skillful shielding of my own feelings rising in response to his obvious lack of the same ability), I tossed my head to move a lock of my bangs from my eyes before continuing.

"I couldn't help but notice your interest in my sister in law, Mr. Akasuna. Personally, I believe that Sakura deserves happiness with another man, as her loss has humbled her more than you can know, but I have to warn you; the sting of my brother's death is still fresh in her mind. She wears her wedding ring yet for a reason; she intends to remain devoted to his memory for the rest of her life. She has firm beliefs and when determined to do something, she is resolute. Nothing but the most stalwart of reasoning could change her mind, but I discourage trying to do so. The girl is a part of the only family I have surviving, and should she come to any sort of harm from someone trying to force her hand in moving on… I would not envy them for the retribution they would suffer," I finished significantly, impressed at my spur of the moment reasoning and the weight of the threat I had made, and was haughtily satisfied that Sasori appeared taken aback by the news I had given him.

He took a moment to think over what I had said, his eyes on the distance over my shoulder, before returning his gaze to mine, acquiescence heavy in his eyes and demeanor, though I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else in his gaze as well, something… conniving.

"I understand, Mr. Uchiha. She is important to you, and you obviously hold her best interests to heart. You are longtime friends, I assume?" he questioned suddenly, and I nodded, my gaze flicking over his expression. Whatever did he mean by that?

He looked like I had merely confirmed a suspicion, nodding as well and raising an eyebrow. "As I suspected. In that case, I will take your warning into consideration. She will have nothing to fear from me, I assure you… now, I must return to work. Good day, Mr. Uchiha. My condolences, again."

With this said, Sasori turned his back and strode from the parking garage, leaving me in stunned silence and mute contemplation. I had obviously succeeded in conveying my point and managed to make it seem merely protective and not possessive, but from the tenor of his final reply, I got the feeling that I had not deterred him.

I may have put a snag in his efforts, forbidding him from making any moves while Sakura was embroiled in her depression, but if he was as intelligent as I was suddenly thinking that he was, then he would find a way around that.

Even more frustrated than I had been before beginning the conversation, I clenched my fists and considered kicking the back tire of Sakura's car, but restrained myself and merely stuffed her car keys in my coat pocket and stalked through the parking garage and into the building, pointedly ignoring the acknowledging hails I received from the people milling about the lobby as I strode to the elevator.

The cursory glance that I sent the lighted panel above the closed doors told me that the machine was beginning its decent, somewhere around the fourteenth floor at the moment, so I pressed the button that would hail it and waited impatiently for its arrival.

Since it was coming down I assumed that Sakura had made it to the floor where my apartment was located, and was now either trying to move her belongings up the stairs by herself as I had instructed her _not _to (excruciatingly strong-willed girl) or was locked in conversation with Kisame.

Either way, I needed to get to my home quickly.

If she was engaged in the first activity, I would need to correct her and, potentially, save her from falling to her death while carrying a box at least twice her own weight. We had discussed that we would move her things together when I returned from work, but I saw her actually listening to me just as much as I was willing to believe that pigs could fly.

If she was doing the second, I would need to save her just as expeditiously.

Kisame was fond of Sakura, finding her hair and personality amusing and fascinating, especially since he knew I was so interested in her, and was on very friendly terms with her. She was the only person that he allowed to refer to him as a fish of any sort without any protest, indulged her whims whenever he was in the mood (which was more often than you might think), and defended her without thought.

He was quick to drop hints about my interest regarding her though, and it was from this that I hoped to save her. She never understood his allusions, for which I was intensely grateful, but I couldn't count on her blindness forever and tried to avert that disaster from occurring as long and as often as I could manage.

The elevator couldn't travel fast enough for me as it finally reached the ground floor and immediately began its ascent again, my fingers drumming against my leg and my foot tapping edgily. For all I knew, Sakura could already be hurt or worse, know of my infatuation.

My annoyance grew by the second, spiking higher every time the elevator shuddered to a halt at one floor or another to either let someone on or off, and by the time that I had finally reached the highest peak that the machine could carry me, I was bristling.

I was ready to push the doors of the machine open, their progression in opening far too slow for my tastes, and when they did finally slide apart I felt just about set to leap from the elevator, tear the front door of my apartment off of its hinges, and come to Sakura's valiant and differing rescue.

Fortunately, I was saved from having to suddenly obtain inhuman strength by the sight of Sakura still flipping through my ring of keys, mumbling to herself and glaring at the doorknob that was thwarting her.

My irritation faded as I stepped from the elevator and walked over to join her by the door, looking down on her obvious difficulty in finding the correct key humorously. The relief I felt over having my fears be unfounded was substantial, and I let myself bask in it while Sakura very clearly ignored my presence beside her, though I knew she was aware of me by the embarrassed flush she wore.

I could understand why she was having trouble; following the shock of being walked in on by the doorman, I had changed the doorknob and deadbolt locks to new ones with separate keys, neither looking alike and both inconspicuous. I had told her which of the objects went where twice, but she must have either forgotten or not have remembered them in the first place.

She was quickly becoming frustrated with her failure in finding the correct key, this much was clear, and I couldn't help the smirk that rose at her ordeal before leaning over and pointing at one of the keys, a few away from the one she was currently trying to force into the keyhole.

"It's the one with the red key guard," I muttered, trying to tone down my amusement for her sake, and she looked over at me before glancing back down at the ring in her hands, quickly locating the indicated object and looking at it skeptically for a few moments, thereafter looking back at me like I was insane.

"But I already tried that one. It wouldn't even go in," she complained, a whine in her voice that made the situation only more amusing, and I leaned against the wall next to the brass number plate beside the door, folding my arms and chuckling lightly.

I had to admit… this was a much needed distraction from the ire I had been stewing in. She had such an effect on me, her everyday emotions and quandaries and tribulations putting my own in the background without her even trying, and I would always be grateful for what she unknowingly did for me.

She was the grounding wire that kept me sane, the link that held me within the boundaries of the world, the safe haven I could return to no matter how trying my day had been and the reason for being the man that she saw me as. No matter how angry I had been before seeing her, before speaking and laughing with her, she could always recall the best of my attributes with hardly a twitch of her smallest finger or a single note of her melodious voice. She was _everything_ to me…

And yet to her… to her, I was _nothing_.

My peaceful thought process was broken with this reminder, and I averted my eyes to over Sakura's shoulder. That was not exactly true. She was still my friend; she had told me such. She still saw me as the infallible brother she had known during the hardest times of her life, the rock she could lean on and the strongest person she had ever known.

I was the grace that was saving her from herself, and that I had this place in her life was gratifying… but my lamentations were not slight on the subject of having no place where I truly wanted to be within her regard.

I wanted to be the one she turned to not only for a comfortable conversation, but for relief from the storm and for warmth from the cold of the night. I wanted to be the presence beside her while she slept, the figurehead that supported her livelihood, the father of her children, the man she could call husband and be glad of it, and to know that I would never have that place was what turned my mood sour more often than not these days.

This was not the moment to contemplate this, however; especially since the woman I wished to have was staring at me and waiting for my response, so I, once again grateful to be a master of my facial expressions, turned my gaze back to Sakura and gave her my hated half smile.

There was no need to worry her with my despondency; she was burdened with enough already without my adding to her load.

"You have to put it in upside down," I hinted gently, and she raised a disbelieving eyebrow before returning her gaze to the doorknob and doing as directed.

She gave a quiet gasp as the lock clicked out of place, her surprise over being proved wrong apparent and her embarrassment over needing my help obvious, and I couldn't resist laughing again, making her glare at me from the corner of her eye and physically resist sticking her tongue out at me (a favored response of hers that I was glad she had refrained from doing as she grew older; not only was it juvenile, but it attracted the worst side of my attentions far too easily).

I gave no indication of being intimidated by her silent reprimand, however (it merely served to amuse me), and with a huff and a clenched jaw, she pushed my front door open roughly and turned abruptly to take hold of the cart that rested beside her, trying to pull it through the doorway with a stiff neck and an upturned nose.

If it hadn't been for the show of pride, she might have been able to make it through.

As it was, with her fulsome refusal to see that she should have either asked for my help or tried to approach the door at a different angle, she quickly got the trolley jammed against the frame of the door, one of the poles catching on a hinge, and no matter how she pushed or pulled, she could not get it free.

I let her have her delusion of control for a few moments, watching with returning amusement as she strained against the immovable object, before smirking, moving her hands out of the way, and lifting the cart clear of the hinge it was stuck on, thereafter turning the trolley to a different angle and pushing it through the doorway without difficulty or struggle.

I heard my companion muttering under her breath as I led the cart down the hallway to my living room, and the glance over my shoulder that I took revealed that the pout had returned to her full lips, so I judged that she was merely embarrassed that I had managed a feat that she had been unable to and was content to leave it at that, more concerned with pushing my load and determining what havoc Kisame had wrecked in my absence.

As I entered my living room, the quick look I threw around revealed that nothing was out of place, the television displaying an unwatched cartoon featuring a yellow sponge with an annoyingly high pitched voice the only moving thing in the wide, open room.

This concerned me, as it meant that my son and friend were somewhere other than a place that could be easily cleaned, and with another look over at Sakura (she had stopped in the hallway after closing the door behind her and was looking with interest at the pictures lining the walls of the corridor with a sympathetic light to her gaze; what was she thinking about? She had seen the catalogue of my family many times before, and there was nothing there that garnered worrisome emotions like compassion), I abandoned my burden at the base of the stairwell leading to the upper level of my home and strained my ears for any sign of the missing inhabitants of the apartment.

It was too quiet to give me comfort, leading me to believe that the two were either asleep (unlikely) or were to be found involved in something they were not supposed to be (decidedly more probable). It did not take long to detect the slight sounds of purposefully quiet cursing and happy yet stifled giggling coming from the direction of my kitchen, so I stalked quickly towards the aforementioned doorway in hope of discovering what the two were up to before they desisted, leaving Sakura to whatever it was she was doing in the hallway and walking hurriedly through the doorway of the kitchen and into the cooking space beyond it.

The first thing I noticed was Kisame. It was hard to miss him, as he is a monster of a man and has an aura of disrepute about him at all times. What stuck out to more significantly, at the moment, was the look of panic and guilt that he wore as, when he saw me enter the kitchen, he rapidly strode over to stand in the doorway to the dining room, hands behind his back and a falsely genuine smile lifting his lips.

I was set instantly on my guard, suspicion narrowing my gaze as I slowed my gait as I grew nearer to him. The kitchen looked to be in good repair, from the glance that I threw at the counters and floor, but Kisame was not trying to hide that from me. What he _was_ shielding was still giggling quietly, as if in on whatever secret was being concealed, and I gave my longtime friend a look of foreboding.

He seemed to quaver at the expression, his smile fading slightly before he firmed it, waving a hand in greeting while at the same time leaning his large frame to the right, blocking the attempt I had made to lean around him to see what was behind him.

"Itachi! Glad to see that you're back in one piece! I know the lunch traffic can be rough… you got the girl with you?" he asked quickly, falsifying interest, and I maintained my frosty attitude while tension grew in my chest.

If he was trying to distract me so thoroughly, whatever it was that he was hiding was terrible to behold.

"Yes, Sakura is here, through much trouble and annoyance. But never mind that… I take it everything went well while I was gone? I assume that you are blocking my path and keeping me from seeing my son out of mere coincidence and not culpability," I muttered poignantly, the glare I wore not at all matching my tone, and Kisame's smile fell from his face completely, his throat tightening as he swallowed nervously.

This did not encourage me.

"Itachi, I… look, man, I didn't know that he would make such a fucking mess. I was just feeding him like you said, and I couldn't stop him! I didn't know what else to do; the damn kid wouldn't listen to me when I told him to stop…" he complained furtively, as if his plight would make me pity him, and I snorted before flicking my fingers at him, silently telling him to move aside, and when he did as speedily as he was able, the sight that greeted me made me wish I had brought the boy with me.

Roku gave an exultant cry of joy when he saw me, reaching out to me from his high chair beside the long maple dining room table, and while this normally would have made me smile, I could barely repress a groan because of the state that he was in.

Before him on the table attached to his chair lay the remnants of a large sandwich, though all that remained of it was the bottom layer of French bread, of which my son seemed to be ripping pieces out of and eating, since the rest of the meal was out of his reach.

The other parts of the sandwich were spread on the floor, tabletop, walls, and curtains generally surrounding him, stains of sauces and vegetable juices on any surface that could hold them and torn ruins of meat, cheese, and lettuce hanging from and resting on all that had once been clean upon my departure. My son had fared no better, every inch of his skin just as coated as the room around him, and I couldn't hold back the sigh that leaked from my lips as I walked over to him, shaking my head as I went.

"Just look at you, boy," I said resignedly as I stopped beside him, brushing a smear of mayonnaise from his cheek as his hands grasped at my fingers, and he smiled up at me in response, making unidentifiable noises in the back of his throat that I liked to think were the beginnings of my station, "daddy".

It was difficult to be angry with him for the mess; he hadn't known better. I would have corrected him if I had been here in time to see him still making the mess, but now he would not understand why I was reprimanding him. Having to take a bath would be punishment enough for him, as he seemed to hate the experience…

Exhaling heavily, I patted Roku on the head before turning my now once again baleful gaze back to my friend, walking back over to the doorway of the kitchen so I could glare at the cowering man full on.

"Kisame, you are an insufferable dolt," I snarled at him, and he threw his hands in the air, eyes wide and shoulders shrugging upwards.

"I didn't know he was going to throw it everywhere! I thought if I gave it to him he would eat it like a normal person! There's something wrong with your _kid_, Itachi, not me," he defended proudly, and my lip curled.

"Do _not_ insult my son. He did not eat it correctly because he is a _child;_ an eleven month old child to be exact. He still needs to be fed, and not things like submarine sandwiches, Kisame. I thought that you would know that without me being forced to explain it. I cannot imagine how you have survived to your age when you are obviously without hope regarding issues of delicate nature. God forbid you ever have a child," I growled protectively, offended that he would even infer that something was wrong with my precious little boy, and Kisame gasped quietly in shocked affront, holding a hand to his heart and leaning heavily against the counter beside him as if wounded by my words.

"There's no need to be cruel Itachi. You said to feed him, so I did. You didn't say what I was supposed to give him," he complained, and I rolled my eyes and scoffed.

"He is a baby. I _assumed_ that you could figure out that he still ate baby food and were capable of finding it in the cupboard full of, to all of our intense surprise, _baby food_. I know you, Kisame; you just couldn't be bothered to look and gave Roku half of your own lunch. I shouldn't have thought so highly of you as to think that common sense would prevail over laziness today."

Kisame continued to look even more offended, though I could tell that he had no real argument to give me, and started to respond right when Sakura peeked her head around the door, looking into the kitchen cursorily and catching my and my friend's attention. She must have been drawn to the sound of our raised voices and had come to see what we were yelling at each other about.

I began to say something to her, ready to tell her about the mess and consult with her about what to do about it but was arrested by the sight of Kisame seizing her and dragging her into the room, looking triumphant and sneaky at the same time.

He seemed convinced that his salvation was to be found in the young girl's presence, obviously sure that my anger would wane now that she was drawn unwillingly into the confrontation, and while I was calmed slightly by her presence, my indignation over Kisame not only including her where she hadn't needed to be but by him touching her as well (I was, unrighteously so, always discomfited by other males touching Sakura even so much as to shake her hand; I was a territorial man, and when I considered something to be mine I defended it to the last) climbed to a new high in lieu of his action.

My deepening glower didn't seem to discourage him, however, and when he had dragged Sakura fully to his side, he leaned a heavily muscled arm on the top of her head, pointing at the girl that was struggling to support his weight.

"See, Itachi! The flower child has come to support me! She backs my side, I'm sure of it!" he exclaimed, obviously proud of his plan to gain a supporter to his cause, and with an even more narrowed glare, I folded my arms across my chest, barely restraining a growl over Kisame's continued contact with Sakura.

"I think that you will find that she doesn't, Kisame. _She_ knows that you can't give an eleven month old child a submarine sandwich and expect him to _eat_ it," I snapped, gesturing behind me into the dining room where Roku was watching us in interested silence, at the same time giving Kisame a dangerous look, warning him not to push it regarding the girl if he wanted to live to see the end of the day.

"Who's going to clean this mess up?" I finished viciously, though I had every intention of calling a cleaning service as soon as I had settled the matter of my friend's stupidity, and Sakura strained her neck to look around me and into the room beyond while Kisame merely raised an eyebrow at my silent threats, clearly unconcerned since my overall mood seemed improved now that Sakura was with me.

Unimpressed with his daring assumption that I would not put him in a world of pain just because the girl I was in love with was here (though he was correct), I met his gaze unfailingly, staring up at my friend and letting him know that I would get him later when we were drawn from our individual thoughts by a put upon sigh, Sakura abruptly shoving Kisame's arm off of the top of her head and making him stagger sideways as his armrest was removed.

"God, I doubt your intelligence sometimes, sharkface," she commented crisply as she ran a hand over her hair to make sure it wasn't sticking up before striding across the kitchen, sliding past me, and walking over to my son's side, gazing down at him lovingly and ticking her finger against his nose, at which he giggled and grasped at her hand. "And for the last time; I'm as much a hippie as you really are a fish. It's not like I dye my hair this color or hug trees."

Her happiness when dealing with my son made my heart rise within my chest even as Kisame let out a further insulted huff of indignation at Sakura's slight on his intelligence, the air around me becoming difficult to breathe as I watched her eyes sparkle with pleasure as she cooed at the little boy beside her. I wondered, and not for the first or last time, if Roku would even remember anyone caring for him besides Sakura. He had been very small when Alora died, and even before that Sakura had cared for him as she had for Kenji.

Would he, as he grew older, think of her as his mother?

This pleased me for some reason, as I had wished for the same thing to be true many times before, and I couldn't help but feel as though she would like it as well. My sons were as good as her children… would she welcome the place in their hearts that they gave her? She was still in pain over the loss of her children, and I wasn't sure she would ever get over what had happened to her, but I knew she loved Kenji and Roku.

Wouldn't she want to be held in such high regard?

I did not know, but surely it would come up sometime in the future, and until it did, I would leave it in the speculative state. Mentally dropping the subject, I turned back to Kisame and chuckled as he spluttered resentfully, face redder than it normally ever got.

"Come on now, pinky, that wasn't necessary was it? How was I supposed to know what to feed the damn kid? I've never had to take care of midgets that can't feed themselves," he announced proudly, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side, and I heard Sakura snort from behind me, the shifting of material and plastic heralding her, I suppositioned, lifting Roku from his chair.

"Why would you even consider leaving him with your son, Itachi? You know better than I do that he has absolutely no clue how to take care of anything, even himself," she asked with slight strain in her voice, and I shrugged one shoulder, maintaining my stoically baleful expression but raising a challenging eyebrow at my friend (who had opened one eye to look over at me following Sakura's question), gloating over having Sakura on my side silently, and Kisame's jaw clenched as we two teamed him, encouraging me to comment further.

"I thought that it would be safe to trust him for two hours, but apparently I was wrong. The same mistake won't be made again," I promised the both of them at the same time, giving Kisame a significant look, and Sakura laughed from directly behind me, brushing past me with my son in tow this time, his body curled against her chest comfortably while a small smile curled his lips, obviously pleased with all the attention he was getting.

"You know that you'll give him another chance. You always do," she said when she had finally squeezed by me, and I found that I couldn't draw my gaze away from her as she carried my son to the sink and set him down on the counter beside it, completely disregarding my friend's indignant announcement of having enough of our combined cruelty before diving headfirst into my refrigerator.

The surrealism of the moment was undeniable; this was what a messy lunchtime accident with my wife should have looked like.

We would have walked in on the situation, reprimanded our son and my friend both, and then cleaned up the mess together. She would have been caring as she gently washed the boy's face and hands, muttering soothing words to the squirming child as he tried to avoid the soapy rag, and wouldn't have cared about the saucy handprints that had been left on her clothes. I would have been included as well, cleaning up the mess the boy had made in the dining room before passing off the instance and enjoying the noon meal with my spouse and progeny, thereafter returning to work with loving words and a passionate kiss exchanged with the woman that had borne the troublemaker I called my son.

It would never have turned out like that, of course; Alora would have barely noticed enough to tell the nearest maid to clean up both her child and the mess. I wouldn't have even been here to see it, as I would have been hiding in my office at work to avoid being around the harridan. No tender moment would have occurred between the woman and I, most definitely not a kiss that would bear any mention (I was not one to make any of my gestures of affection minute; I either made each act worthy of note or kept my distance altogether), and suddenly realizing the truth of this made my heart ache unpleasantly.

There was finally a familial feeling within my home, and I could have no part in it because the woman that had become the focal point of it was not my wife.

My back stiffened and my fists clenched, my gaze locked on the woman standing in _my_ kitchen and cleaning up _my_ child, and I quickly decided that I needed no permission to partake in this instance. I would not pass up this moment, something that felt so close and so meaningful and so _real_, just because I was afraid of Sakura discovering my real feelings. I could not kiss her afterwards, even though I knew so very well that I wished to (just thinking of not being able to do it made me want it more), but there was no reason that, as Roku's father, I should not be allowed to help clean up the mess he had made alongside my sister in law.

I wanted to be part of this feeling growing in the room, and inhibitions be damned, nothing was going to stop me.

Courage and resolve bolstered, I took a step away from the doorway I had been reclining in, leaning a hand on the counter beside me. "Would you like some help, Sakura? I have some time to spare before I have to go in to the office," I asked hopefully, and from the slight jump Sakura made and the jerkiness with which she glanced over her shoulder at me, her expression surprised and confused, she obviously hadn't been expecting me to ask that, or perhaps even speak at all.

_That_ expression, the mysterious and distressing look in her eyes that I had been considering earlier, had returned in full force as she looked at me; it was maddening, not knowing what it meant.

I had, as I have explained before, catalogued all of Sakura's expressions and emotions and reactions to the tee. She could do, say, or feel nothing that I hadn't been able to understand before the accident. But something had changed within her, apparently, since that time, and now she had a new sentiment, one that I had never seen before and couldn't even begin to give a name.

The mixture of regret, longing, confusion, distress, reluctance, and pain that filled her gaze and trembled on her lips drew me in and caught my attention inexplicably.

What was she feeling that made such emotion rise within her?

It was not as though I could ask her, though, and while I wanted to obtain the knowledge with every iota of my being, I would just wait, watch, and learn the way I had in the past, memorizing the feeling over and over again until I could come to some conclusion over what to call it.

I was a master of such things, and I would have my answer soon enough. Patience was required, and I had plenty of that to spare…

"No, I can do it. It's what I'm here for, after all… I'm sure you would like to hurry over to the police department as soon as possible anyway; I can't even imagine all the trouble those deputies of yours are causing in your absence. Go ahead; I'll be fine," a quiet, resigned voice spoke from before me, drawing my attention from my considerations and finding that Sakura was smiling up at me reassuringly, the mysterious emotion gone from her gaze and her posture indicating that she expected me to take her dismissal to heart.

I couldn't help the furrow my eyebrows pulled into, or the small scowl of displeasure that tugged the corner of my lip down. She didn't want my help. She was telling me to go to work, that she could handle doing all of the work by herself and that she, above all, had no desire to have my involvement in the softness of the moment she had been lost in with my son.

I was a little put off by this, having greatly desired to be a part of it, but what caught my attention more inescapably was what she had said after her denial of my assistance; she thought that she was here to clean.

I had to physically repress a growl of annoyance and an eye roll at the same time.

I had not asked her to live with me so she could be my servant. I had not called her here for her to take the full burden of housewifery onto her shoulders. I had asked her to help me care for my children, to teach me how to do the things that I didn't know about childcare, and to let me help her get better (my selfish desire for her to live under the same roof as I did was not worthy of mention). I had _never_ inferred that she would be the housekeeper as well, and I didn't want her to be.

It was one of her natural compulsions to clean things, and while there was a certain amount of pleasure to be garnered from the thought of her in a maid uniform (gods _above_, but that would be sexy), I had no desire for her to labor under the pretense of being no better than a slave to me (also a most gratifying image, in the way of erogenous inclination in any case).

The second part of her comment was distressing to the ear, however, because it was most likely true, and it was for this reason that I had no time to correct her state of mind at the moment. I knew I would probably regret not doing so now, but Hidan and Kakuzu were wont to wreaking havoc if I wasn't there to stop them (Kakuzu was a responsible man, but under the influence of his partner his constraint waned, and Hidan loved to cause trouble wherever he went), and if I didn't get to work soon, then the new copier machine I had just ordered would most likely have worse than the usual butt cheek marks on it.

"You are quite correct; if Hidan and Kakuzu haven't destroyed the copy room yet then I'm sure they will soon," I allowed with a nod, watching with no slight amount of discontent as Sakura shook her head in exasperation over the idiocy of my deputies and went back to cleaning Roku up, before shoving my irritation away and turning my attention to the form of my friend, who was still exploring the depths of my refrigerator. "Come, Kisame; you have a long ten hours of toll bridge duty to go through to start to make up your debt to me."

A squawk of protest came from within the ice box, and Kisame quickly stood up to face me, bottom lip jutting out as he pouted over the boring and inferior job I had given him for today.

"You're not still on about that, are you, 'Tachi? What's a couple bucks between friends, eh?" he prodded expectantly, though I knew he had no real anticipation of dissuading me from my chosen punishment now that I had decided on it; I was not an easily moved man, and my anger over losing all of that money to his whims still rankled on the edge of my mind.

I thought that I had been far too merciful in my decision (Hidan agreed, having suggested a gauntlet of painful repercussions reminiscent of his favorite movie series, Saw), but Sakura had been the one to talk me out of being harsher. She had proposed the plan I had gone with…

And she would not have been proud of me if I had not exercised mercy.

This did not mean I couldn't be consternated by his bold denial (or be offended that he still insisted on using that ridiculous name for my person), and I glared at him severely in response.

"It was eleven _thousand_ dollars, Kisame. That's far more than I can allow to just disappear from my pockets, and it will all be paid back. And please refrain from using that abhorrent nickname in reference to me. We've discussed this before; you are not a girl and I am not your lover," I muttered blasély, drawling the last half of my reprimand out in a way that hinted at the true level of my annoyance over his attempt to get out of my fair judgment, and Kisame looked further incited, embarrassment over my jibing showing in the slight flush he gained.

He looked ready to add something to my comment, pointing his finger at me and scowling, but was interrupted by the giggle that came from beside us. We both turned to find Sakura trying to hide her amusement over my words, biting at her bottom lip as she deftly plucked pieces of lunchmeat from Roku's hair, and I smiled , more to myself than anything else, over the fact that I had made her laugh.

It was always a pleasure to hear her amusement over something, especially if I had been the one to bring it to her attention, but it was even more so now, seeing as I had not heard her laugh, _truly_ laugh, in more than four months. It was a sound that I could not describe, something soft and yet ringing at the same time, melodious and abrupt and clear. It was incredibly contagious, always making me wish there were a reason for me to join in with her amusement…

Oftentimes there wasn't though, just as in this moment, so I retained my silence as Kisame finally had enough of our combined cruelty and made a show of pretending to storm off, though actually stopping just beyond the edge of the refrigerator and shooting suggestive glances at Sakura's turned back, waggling his eyebrows provocatively and silently encouraging me to make a move.

I gave him a disgusted look, repulsed that he would even think I would do anything with my son in the same room, and he shrugged before lumbering off to obviously wait for me to finish what I intended to do. I snorted quietly as he disappeared from sight before turning back to look at Sakura, gaze flickering over her consideringly.

She was bent over the sink at the moment, rinsing off the washcloth she had been using so she could put some more soap on it, her elbows resting on the edge of the counter and her bottom sticking out most enticingly.

It was hard to tear my mind away from the considerations that I was presented with while watching her in such a compromising position; if she had wanted me, if my son hadn't been here, and if I wasn't in desperate need of getting to work quickly (I could care less that Kisame was here and only one room away; he had done worse than what I was thinking while I was in the same room), I would have had no trouble or reservation in going to her, shoving the slacks that hung low on her hips to the floor, and taking her so hard that she screamed.

This was only one of the many places I had thought of her in such a position, but I had never imagined it while she was standing before me, only feet from my station, and the difference in the strength of my desire was staggering.

The reasons that I could not have her were almost forgotten, thrown away the second that my eye was caught by bare glimpse of skin I saw between the edge of her blouse and the hem of her pants, and had I dared to move a muscle or to forget that my son was there with us, I am sure I would have lost control.

I forced myself to look away, my fists clenching and my chest constricting as I forced my breaths to be even and steady, not wanting to alert the woman still, infuriatingly, leaning over the sink to my issues. What was wrong with me today? I was not usually so unrestrained, so out of control when around her or when thinking about her. I knew better than to let my emotions and my wants get the better of me.

I was no longer a fumbling teenage boy, fresh from his first time with the pretty girl in his biology class and still wanting more. I was a fully grown man with more experience with sex than I liked to boast about, able to withhold my innermost wants indefinitely and, while occasionally drawn to think about what I should not, a master of my own mind concerning the pleasures of coupling.

That I seemed to have lost my fabled control over the merest glance that this girl threw at me today was disconcerting and, to me, an ill omen. How was I to live with her peacefully, as we had planned, if all I could think about while in her presence was how delectable she would look and sound while joined with me in my bed? How was I to learn from her if all I did while she spoke was watch her lips move and wonder what they would taste like?

How could I be a better man when my irresponsible desires numbered me among the worst of them all?

Throat tight and wants just as restricted, though barely so, I turned my attention back to Sakura. I had many difficulties ahead of me, foremost among them trying to keep my hands away from a woman who didn't want their attentions, but I would manage well enough.

My personality did not deal well with rejection, and even now it clamored for me to cease my weak acceptance of her dismissal and show her why I was the one who should be the center of her affections, but I ignored its pleas adequately. I had dealt with worse (though I had not handled the pressure well, as evidenced by the presence of my sons), and I would do well to remember that I had no right to force my will, or myself, on this woman.

Resolved and grounded by this awareness, however much I hated it in its entirety, I shook myself from my melancholy and walked to Sakura's side to say goodbye to my son. When she finally turned back from the sink she spied me and jumped, her eyes wide and her hand moving up to clutch at her chest, obviously not having heard me move across the room.

I smirked at her response, imagining how much more drastically she would have reacted to what I had been thinking about only seconds before, before turning to Roku, who was inspecting the spoon he had snagged from beside the sink with great interest, looking with wonder at his upside down reflection in its surface.

He hadn't noticed my approach, too interested in his current activity, and I smiled slightly as I took his free hand in mine, attracting his attention and making a wide grin spread across his lips. My heart swelled within my chest as I met his exuberant gaze, eyes softening and fingers brushing the back of his tiny hand. It was one of the greatest mysteries of life to me, how such a small being could have such a massive impact on a person's composure…

He was one of the few things that I considered worthy of my consideration, his brother and Sakura the only others held in equal esteem. If Sakura was my soul, then my children were my heart, and as ridiculously sentimental as that sounded, I wouldn't change my thoughts for all the money or all the power in the world.

There were none I loved more, and I would do anything for them.

Overcome by emotion, as I usually was when considering how lucky a man I was to have such blessings as sons that loved me, I leaned down to meet Roku's eyes with a returned smile. "Roku," I muttered, and his eyes brightened, showing that he was listening.

I was once more brought to the awareness of the incorrectness of my assumption that the boy would be less intelligent than his older brother, having been proved wrong many other times; he had shown, more than once, that while he was not as pronounced about his progress as Kenji had been, he was every bit as gifted.

He had a quiet sort of knowledge in his gaze, the kind that came from waiting and watching instead of action and outright questioning, and with this sort of inclination he would learn much with little effort.

Such a feat from one so young set me back when I had thought it through, and while I had already held the boy in regard, as he was my son, it had raised my opinion of him. Kenji would always be lauded as a gifted and bright boy, vocal about his intellectual prowess (though in a way that was not intentionally prideful), the best of his class, and far more advanced than his age allowed, but Roku would be a quiet genius who found his approval not from others, but from himself, and this would give him power above that of his brother's.

Pride over siring such promising sons rising within, I continued on without breaking stride, aware of Sakura watching the exchange between my child and myself.

"Daddy has to go to work now, ok? You be good for Sakura and don't make any more messes today and I'll bring you home a present, alright?" I probed, finding myself resorting to less than perfect grammar in response to talking to the boy (I just couldn't help myself), and Roku immediately showed that he understood, gurgling incomprehensibly and kicking his feet excitedly while smiling with every one of his tiny teeth.

My instant response was to smile in return, afterwards leaning down more and pressing my lips against his now, mercifully, clean forehead and whispering, "That's my boy. I love you," against his shorn obsidian bangs.

He giggled at the feeling, squirming in my grasp, and I let him go to turn to wish Sakura a good day as well, to tell her that I would be back at as close to five as I could and to look at her just one more time before going for the rest of the day without her presence, but found her gazing intently at the rag in her hand, halfway turned away from my son and I with obvious sadness and discontent in her eyes.

Her lower lip was trembling between the teeth it was caught in, and the mysterious look that I had been considering earlier had returned again. The weight of it caught my consideration inescapably, and now I was sure that whatever it was that she was feeling, it was because of me.

I averted my eyes, wrinkling my nose and frowning at her shoulder. What had I said or done that had affected her so deeply? I had not meant to offend, and if I had, I did not know how I had. Was she still uncomfortable with my being so near to her, or was it something else, something that she merely did not want to recognize?

Something like love?

I literally scoffed at myself, immediately shouldering the thought to the side and cursing my ever hopeful and irrational delusions. _Her_, love **me**? As anything more than her brother and friend? It was expecting and anticipating too much. This look didn't mean that. It probably held no thought even close to resembling love. More likely she hated me for forcing her to come here and just wished for me to leave her in peace.

The corner of my lip twitched, but I repressed the bitterly ironic smile that willed to break through my control. I doubted that she hated me, but I also suspected she wanted me to leave as well. Her earlier comment had been pointed enough to clue me in to that.

I wanted to be able to do what I hadn't bothered to do with my wife for the last five years of our marriage and kiss her goodbye, as I had been so fervently thinking of doing only minutes earlier, but if she didn't even want me staying in the same room as her any longer, I doubted she would welcome the attention, even if I had been brave enough to give it.

I was knew I was many things, but that was the day I discovered that I was a coward.

"Make sure you call me if you need anything, Sakura. I should be in the office most of the day, so feel free to use the building number," I told her quietly, taking a step back so she could feel more comfortable, and she shrugged.

"Alright. Sounds fun," she muttered, turning the washcloth over and over in her hands, and I furrowed my eyebrows.

She was obviously not listening to me, deliberately blocking me out, or was so lost in her own world that she had no idea what she had said… hopefully she would overcome this after I left. It discomfited me that she was so uneasy in my presence that she couldn't even give me a proper answer to a simple announcement, but I refused to believe it would be like this after she had been given a chance to recover from my forcing her to leave her home. Surely that was the reason she was being so…

Cagey.

Obeying her not so subtle dismissal, I turned and strode from the room, walking over to the couch where my briefcase lay in wait and gesturing to Kisame as I picked it up, who had settled himself in an easy chair and was rapturously watching the cartoon that had been on earlier, thereafter proceeding down the hallway and out the front door with the frown I had pushed back earlier weighing my lips down.

She hadn't moved as I had left the kitchen, not even to turn around to watch me go…

Kisame followed directly after me, locking and shutting the door behind himself before throwing his suit coat over his shoulder, strolling along in my wake slowly while I paced impatiently over to the elevator. He was too quiet for my comfort, as he usually would have been saying something about trying to ditch work to have some actual fun today, but he came to stand beside me so silently that I cast a wary glance in his direction after pressing the elevator recall button.

This turned out to be what he had been waiting for, because he immediately gave me the most shark like grin he was capable of and threw the back of his hand against his forehead, batting his eyelashes and assuming a mockingly sincere expression.

""_Would you like some help, Sakura? I have some time to spare before I have to go in to the office,"_" he mimicked in a voice that was obviously supposed to sound like mine, and I sighed heavily, turning away and looking as staidly as I could manage at the elevator doors.

It was just like him to make fun of the softness of the offer I had made, but I would never let him know how much his disrespect actually stung. The wound of having the proposal rejected was still fresh, the embarrassed flush that most people would have worn only barely kept back, and even I only managed it with every ounce of pride I had in my body. I knew he would not be deterred by my ignoring him, however; this would merely encourage him, so I had to say something.

"Kisame, do you really find it necessary to poke fun at me about everything to do with Sakura? Any man would have offered his help to her, any man that cared about her and didn't want her to do all the work herself, in any case," I commented lightly, though my posture betrayed the real depth of my feelings, and my tightened shoulders and forcedly stoic expression didn't miss Kisame's attention.

He let out a truly amused laugh, falling out of his mimicked pose and folding his arms across his barreled chest firmly.

"Yeah, and I'm guessing that you wouldn't have let anyone else help if they had tried, _especially_ another man. Come on, Itachi, get your head out of your ass and admit it! Do you think I would have kept on bugging you about wanting Pinky if I didn't think it was true? I only ever make fun of you for your own good," he elaborated, and I snorted, giving every indication of being aloof but truly irritated within, all of the irascibility I had felt during the day thus far rising once again now that I was out of Sakura and my son's presence. I didn't want to lose control of my emotions, as I was wont to do at times while burdened with my friend's company, but if he kept pushing me…

I wasn't sure I would be able to hold back.

"You mock me for your own amusement, Kisame, and we both know it. Now leave me be, if you would; I am not in the mood to humor you," I muttered, the warning in my voice clear in the near silence surrounding us, but Kisame didn't take the hint. I hadn't really expected him to, but I had hoped.

We are nothing if not hopeful creatures, after all…

"Yeah, you're more in the mood for a fuck; I saw the way you were looking at the little flower girl. What's holding you back, 'Tachi? She was right there, man, and I doubt that she would have turned _you_ away. You want to fuck her, that much is clear, but why won't you do it? You know you want to," he asked pointedly, looking as though he had come to the point where I would either have to admit my feelings or go back into my home and make them a reality, and with his assumption that Sakura would never turn me aside, I snapped.

Too much was trying my patience and restraint today, too much had happened and also not happened for me to be able to stand another word from him about the way I was going about my actions. He had no right to assume it would be as easy as he made it sound, and as much as I didn't want to tell him about this, I was too far gone in my ire to care.

After today, he would question me no longer.

"God _damn_ it, Kisame, yes! I want to _fuck her_, as you have so crudely put it," I shouted, turning on my friend so quickly and angrily that he flinched back, hands rising in defense and eyes wide over the curses I had employed.

I let out a bark of cynical laughter at this, my teeth gritted and fists clenched at my sides as I took a step forward warningly, sure that not just my posture, but my gaze as well, showed just how fed up with his incessant queries about my intentions that I truly was.

"Is your curiosity satisfied, or do I need to tell you how long I've wanted to have her, where I have imagined taking her body until I have had my fill, and how often I have begrudged, even _hated_, my own _brother_ for taking her to bed when I couldn't? Is it enough for you to know that I want to sleep with my sister in law, or will you not be content until you discover that I have longed to have her in all the worst ways for longer than my children have been alive? Are you happy now Kisame, or is my hurt and shame over my cravings and my agony over already being rejected by her not yet deep enough for your expectations?"

My breath was heavy and my gaze sharp as I continued on my disparaging rampage, the opening of the elevator only acknowledged enough for me to put out a hand to keep the doors open. Kisame seemed shocked speechless by the depth of what I was revealing, his mouth hanging open as he pressed himself into the wall behind himself, but I was not satisfied by his expression nor was I yet finished. He would understand the full brunt of what he was questioning if I had to stand here yelling at him all day.

"I have suffered for the better part of a decade, tormented and guilt ridden and more ashamed of myself and my wishes than you will ever know. I betrayed my brother, abandoned my wife, neglected my sons, abused Sakura's trust over and over again… I have lied to, deceived, and mislead not only my friends, but my own _family_ more than I ever hoped to, and even after recognizing all of that, after knowing all the wrong I have done and how much I have disrupted the natural order of things, I still want her. I have loved her for too long not to anymore, I have craved her body too damn much to want anyone but her… and there is nothing that you will be able to call me or tell me that will change that. I have injured my own name and tried to talk myself out of it enough already," I trailed off, bitterness leaking into my tone as I averted my eyes from Kisame's, glaring angrily at the potted plant next to him.

I had hoped to avoid bringing up the full brunt of my sins, mostly so I wouldn't have to hear them yet again, but it was inevitable that they should come up and they were integral to the one way conversation. Besides… I deserved to be reminded of them.

I had been forgetting the depth of my wrongdoings, thinking of taking things I had no right to and hoping for things that I could not have. I needed the reminders.

They told the tale of the man I really was.

No longer as impassioned on the subject, I continued in a defeated tone, my gaze still turned away from my friend's. "And no, before you ask in the crass manner that you are sure to, I cannot overcome this difficulty by simply falling into bed with Sakura. She is not one of the whores who caters to your needs, or a woman who can be tossed to the side after a night or two of pleasure. She is my sister in law, the woman I love, and my best friend. It would ruin me to lose her after I have tried so hard to keep her as she is, where she is. I will never touch her, because she will never want _me_ over the memory of my brother… and in the end, I do not deserve to be allowed her affection," I finished before turning away haltingly, steeling my nerves to keep the sting of the truth at bay, and slowly entered the elevator so as to descend the building, eyes on the toes of my shoes.

Kisame stayed in his position for almost too long, seemingly frozen in place by the weight of my admition, before he snapped suddenly out of his stupor just in time to catch the closing doors, sliding his hand into the rapidly closing space and arresting their movement. He then squeezed into the machine next to me, staying uncharacteristically silent for longer than I thought that he would before finally speaking.

"I'm sorry, Itachi," he muttered quietly as the machine was finally allowed to begin its descent, and even though I didn't know what it was exactly that he was apologizing for, I decided that it didn't matter.

He could be apologizing for questioning me, for the troubles I was going through, for my loss, or for the food he had commandeered from my refrigerator for all I knew, and the true meaning behind his words would remain a mystery.

I didn't wish to speak about this any longer, and instead allowed my lips to lift into a smirk as I raised my fist and punched the man beside me in the shoulder, raising an eyebrow but declining to meet his eyes when he turned to look at me in surprise.

His grin was pronounced as he mirrored my motion (with significantly more strength than I had used, I am forced to say; I nearly staggered into the wall following the blow he delivered), and with the silent acceptance that males around the world share, we fell into a semi-friendly conversation concerning the theory surrounding the mysteriously missing thirteenth floor of the building and let the matter of my unrighteous desires fall into the background, though it hung there like a specter of ill omen, visible only to myself. It would always be that way, as long as I yearned for the wrong sort of attention from Sakura, and as I saw that desire never fading…

So too would the demon never depart.

* * *

A week into Sakura's stay at my apartment, the funerals for my brother and my wife were held at the Memorial State Cemeteries.

I was impressed by the turnout of friends that showed for the ceremony; it seemed as though everyone the two had known in life had made their way here for this. I was distinctly less overwhelmed by the row of chairs that Sakura, my children and I sat in though… my mother and father were the only members of our family that had bothered to come. I would have words with my cousins as soon as I could arrange to meet with them for their disrespect, but I thought little about the consideration of such reprimands.

Sakura required my attention most desperately.

She didn't say a word from the time she came out of her room until the very end of the service, obviously on the edge of having an emotional breakdown. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears for most of the day, fine tremors shaking her thin frame as though a chill wind blew against her skin despite the abnormal warmth of the day, and when we were sitting before the coffins that bore the bodies of my brother and my wife, she refused to lift her eyes from the tarp our chairs were set upon, her fingers tight as she grasped at my hand frantically and her body rocking as silent sobs racked her form.

I did not mind that she sought comfort in taking my hand, taking actual pride in being her lifeline and making sure that she never had to stretch far for comfort. I shouldn't have been as happy as I was that she reached out to me in her time of need, crowing within that I was the one she turned to, but the fact remains that I was.

It may be understood that I was ever more gratified by her action when the eulogy read by the dispassionate minister was over and the caskets were being lowered into the ground; the tears that had stayed hidden behind her eyelids spilled over and a cry of despair poured from her lips, and when I reached a comforting arm around her shoulders, she immediately turned and curled against my chest, her hands grasping at the lapels of my suit coat tightly and her whole body shaking in her misery.

I did not care that she was crying all over the front of my suit, as some men of my stature might. I was unconcerned by the eyes that watched the transaction critically, as though judging us for seeking comfort in each other's arms. I paid no mind to the time passing by while sitting with my broken and bleeding love.

I kept an eye on my sons, making sure that Roku didn't get much more bored than he already was and that Kenji's own tears didn't require my aid as well, but most of my attention went to comforting the woman that had become the center of my world.

I did not count the minutes that we sat huddled together in the front row of the metal folding chairs, nor were the wisps of clouds or cars passing in the distance duly noted. What _were_ taken into account were how many times Sakura trembled, her head buried under my cheek as I leaned it against the crown of her head.

The quiet yet soul wrenching sobs of Sasuke's name were tallied, the tears that fell from her eyes allotted for, and, though barely heard and sometimes thought to be a humored inclination of my sick and twisted imagination, the mutter of thanks whispered against my chest written in pages that would never be lost.

What I would remember most about this day would be the last, though probably imagined notice; I was not made of stone, neither was my heart carved from ice. I was hurting on this day as well, for the loss of my brother had not been forgotten and the pain of having him torn from me had not been lessened, and to know that I was needed, that I had not completely lost my worth to another human being, that the girl was grateful to me for my being here for her, was enough to help me keep my resolve and not let the tears clamoring for escape emit.

Everyone needs reminders of their humanity sometimes, even those that are perfectly aware of their own weaknesses.

The services were quick and short, as my family had never been religiously inclined and avoided drawing out emotionally tearing occasions if they could, and only two hours after arriving at the graveyard grounds everyone was already making plans for leaving, either intending to return to their own homes or to depart in small groups, hopeful that each other's company would lessen the blow of laying to rest a friend, family member, or otherwise erstwhile compatriot.

Sakura and I did not leave for a while, not until after everyone had already departed, because she had wanted to watch the headstones being placed, to make sure that it was done right.

As soon as she had made sure everything was as it should be, I brought up the offer that my parents had extended before they had departed, an invitation to come to their manor and weather the tragedy of the day with family. She didn't give it a second thought, however, instantly turning it down in favor of returning to my home and, I assumed from her reluctance to actually tell me, spending the rest of the day hiding and wallowing in misery.

I did not approve of this, as it would be counterproductive to my desires to be close to the only other person who could truly appreciate my misery as well as I myself could, and almost demanded that she accompany me despite her denial.

It was at the last moment that I remembered that I could not do that; that forcing my will on the woman was not within my rights in the position I held, and kept my silence as she turned away from me and slouched her way to her car.

I would be lying to myself if I said or even thought that something within me hadn't protested my muteness.

As it was, however, I allowed her to escape to flounder in her own sadness, to let her find her own way to comfort herself, and did my best to tell myself that it did not matter. From this point on, my outlook would _have_ to be this way, so I might as well get used to it. If I was to give a cool and solid front to her, to let her know that she would have no choice but to get over her loss and move on, then I would have to do my best to believe it myself.

I'm sure it goes without saying that just the consideration of such cruelty as I was considering was distasteful to my palate, but I was convinced that this was the best way to proceed. Her wants were more important than my own, her progress was the one that truly mattered, and even though I despised having to set aside my innermost desires when they were finally within my grasp, I knew I was right. She would recover, become either her old self or even better, and then she would leave, taking the greater part of my happiness with her.

Was being a self-sacrificing bigot satisfying to me? Was I truly desirous of being left alone in my misery and jealous isolation? No… but as I have said, I did not deserve to have what I wanted. Especially because of what getting it had cost.

As convinced as I ever would be by the decisions my hand had been forced into, I herded my sons towards my own car so I could begin the drive to my parent's mansion, resigned to my task and convinced that it was the correct one.

Surely this would be the easiest course of action for executing an intricate plan that I had ever appropriated.

* * *

I spent every day of the next seven months regretting my decision.

Let it be well understood that I had been right in my thinking; by being unmerciful in my approaches, by foisting responsibility onto Sakura's shoulders, by acting as cold and distant as I could while at the same time encouraging her to find strength within herself as I knew she had, she began to recover.

It was not difficult to tell that she was becoming her old self once more. The smiles and the determination that had always surrounded her returned, her imagination and spirit rebounded, causing an upsurge in her writing and general mood, and her caring and self-importance made its appearance again.

She made every effort to be part of the family's activities after the first few weeks of being there, I observed her withdrawing into herself less and less the longer that she stayed, and not only was I extremely proud of her progress and her determination, but I was in awe of her herself.

Sakura was not the only one to benefit from the mutual agreement, of course; as had been the original plan, I too gained experience from the meeting of our minds. I learned much about my sons that I had not known previous to her coming to live with us, discovering a great deal of knowledge concerning the care of my progeny and the best ways to comfort them in the loss of their mother.

I had not expected to have the understanding pass on so quickly, and dreaded the day, which seemed to be quick in its coming, that I had no more to learn from her and she had fully overcome her sadness.

It was at that point that she would leave, and I still wasn't sure I would survive the loss of her.

In any case, I must convey my surprise over not only her proficiency as a teacher to myself, but also over how effortlessly she fell into her role. The ease with which Sakura assumed the position of surrogate mother astounded me, and most likely will continue to do so until I can find a reason for that to change.

I had imagined that she would have a hard time accepting the job, since she was still sore on the subject of her losses (I often found her research notes on the side tables in the living room after she had spent an evening looking for an explanation for her miscarriages), but the love she gave to my sons and the readiness with which she offered her whole self to them raised my opinion of her progress even more.

My own part in her recovery was as muted as I could force myself to make it. I made sure to include her in everything I did with my children, of course, dragging her along to various parks and museums on my days off and not allowing her to hide in her room for longer than it took for her to sleep or get dressed.

It was hard to keep myself from thinking the wrong things while with her, even more problematic to suppress were the desires to make myself more integrated with her recovery and herself both, but I had expected this and dealt with the difficulties when they arose. She seemed surprised that I was as involved as I was, though I couldn't guess why.

All in all, it seemed as though my plan was a success, regarding her return to mental and physical health both.

What I had not anticipated, however, was the true difficulty of the part that I was playing. Being the villain, the evil and harsh taskmaster, the cold and aloof dictator, was not suited to my personality or my tastes, but I could manage it as long as I removed my sense of propriety from the situation. No, being what I had intended was not difficult. The real problem, the true depth of the hardship I encountered, lay within Sakura's own eyes.

I had not imagined that she would be impressed by what I was doing. I had not dared to hope that she would see the pain I was in, how hard it was to treat her so coldly, and to understand. No, I had not been so expectant of easy acceptance. But I had thought that she would respond in kind, that she would rebuff my emotionless façade, or at least take it in stride.

I had not thought that I would hurt her.

Unfortunately, this was exactly the case, because every time that I turned my back on her, every time I told her what to do or denied one of her requests without cause or even left without bidding her farewell, blatant pain shone from the depths of her eyes.

It was obvious that she didn't understand what I was trying to do, and while I was grateful for this, I was also perplexed. Wasn't this how she had wanted it to be? I had set my own wants to the side for her, letting her have my brother as the only man close to her in more than the sense of a housemate.

I just couldn't see what her problem was when this was what _she_ had desired.

I wasn't sure how to respond to the display of loss she showed when I gave my regard to my sons and not her, how to react to _that_ look when I ordered her out of the house to go visit with her friends yet again. I had seen her enigmatic emotion over and over again during those months, seemingly directed only at myself, and had come to associate it with my cold behavior towards her person.

I still didn't have a name to give it, because the one time I had tried I had immediately discarded the possibility that she was falling in love with me. There was simply no feasible way that she could be smitten with me.

I didn't know what to do about it, as I had refused the only thing that it could possibly be, so I did the only thing that I could; ignored it and continued with my actions.

I think that this, among other related things, was what gave rise to the first of a long line of disagreements between the two of us. Perhaps if I hadn't already been so confused by her feelings and emotions, if I hadn't been so strained and stretched out from pretending to be what I wasn't, things might not have turned out and escalated the way that they did. I found no joy in what happened, and I will never claim to like arguing with Sakura, but there was no stopping it once it started, and the only thing that I can do is explain it the best that I can.

I had been correct in my thinking of the first day Sakura had been in my home; she thought that she was there to clean all and sundry. I hadn't minded the fact that she did the dishes, or that I came home to find her vacuuming the living room throw rug, but on the day that we had our fight, the first I have ever had with a woman, I found her collapsed on the kitchen floor in exhaustion, her clothes stained with grime, sweat, bleach and other cleaning solutions and the rest of the house surrounding her spotless.

I had hoped to circumvent such an occurrence without speaking with her about it, merely recruiting a cleaning service to take care of the large chore of cleaning the rooms of my home and hoping that Sakura would not be too offended, but it was with a sense of delayed irony that I received a call from the company while at work, complaining that their workers had been dismissed with many an explicative before they had a chance to actually do anything.

I had gone home early that day to see what could have possibly possessed Sakura to do such a thing, praying to any god willing to accept my pleas that it wasn't as I thought that it was, but was destined to be let down when I had found her drained and near to fainting.

I will admit, privately and only once, that I may have overreacted. I had made it clear that I did not want her to clean the whole place by herself, even if I hadn't told her myself, but to see that I had been ignored and that she had worked herself almost to the point of being dangerous made me lose all sense.

It was the first time I had ever truly yelled at her. It was true that I had raised my voice in her direction once or twice, most prominently when trying to talk her into moving in with me, but I could not control myself when faced with the full brunt of her disobedience. Do not misunderstand; I didn't desire her to obey my every command. I wasn't her master, and I didn't want her to think of me as such, but I _did_ want her to listen to me, especially when I was only trying to protect her and keep her best interests close to heart.

It was this fact that bothered me the most. It was not that I disliked her compulsion to clean. It was not that I didn't want her to stand up for what she believed in, or even to move against my will to support her decisions. No, what truly angered me was that she couldn't see that all I wanted was her safety and well-being, and that this truth continued to thwart her.

It was with this in mind that I had dragged her off of the floor and begun to berate her for her actions, informing her as clearly as I could that I refused to let her treat herself so malignly. I had expected her to bow her head and accept my judgment at the time, to let me decide what was best as she had been doing for the past month without my chewing her out turning into anything more, but I should have seen that, with the return of her true nature, her reactions to my highhandedness would have changed as well.

I believe that I would have been able to handle her disagreeing with me in the way that she did normally, but when she boldly jerked her arm out of my grasp and told me to fuck off and to leave her the hell alone, I had lost my grasp on what my original intent had been and began to descend to depths of livid blindness that I have _never_ resorted to.

It had only gotten worse the longer that we spent entangled in our discrepancy, opinions and loud complaints about each other's expectations and actions trading sides with growing volume. It was all I could do to keep from punching holes in the walls as my anger grew in magnitude the longer that we shouted accusations at each other, while at the same time realizing that if I did not find a way to settle this before Sakura did as she seemed to want to do and cross the room to get closer to me, I would find myself laying hands on her.

It would not be in the way of the monstrous and immoral section of my gender, which physically harmed any woman who stood up to them. No… what I wanted was much more carnal and animalistic.

Seeing her standing before me with the fire of passion in her eyes and the flavor of disrespect on her lips was enough to transform me into the sex starved man that I truly was.

Gods, how I had wanted her. Never before had I been so possessed by my lust as I was while not only being cursed at most profusely, but by participating in the argument myself.

My imagination had escaped on wide spread wings the moment I had recognized the curling in the pit of my stomach, the heat burning in my veins and the growl of male pride building in my throat, forcing me to envision how simple it would be to throw her to the floor and have my way with her right there in the middle of the scene of the crime I had found her in, compelling her to submit to me while proving that _I_ was in the right and _she_ was in the wrong.

I had been forced to end the exchange before I had been satisfied with its progress, despite having been talking in circles for the past half an hour, and had made a deal that I was only partially satisfied with (I told her that she would be allowed to clean what she wished if she didn't do it all at once as she had that day) so that I could escape to the cold water of an abrupt and completely necessary shower.

It was no surprise to me, following my mortifying revelation of that day, that we came to blows often after that. It was also no secret to me why our attempts at civility often became shouting matches over the most ridiculous things in the world that were, more often than not, ended by me storming from the room so I could try to find something to distract me from my mind-bendingly powerful lust.

The feeling was so strong in the air around us that I was stunned that no one else seemed to be able to tell (besides Kisame, but he had a nose for it and had no shame in returning to his mockery of me over my inability to lay with the woman that I desired). It sung through the space amid us while we were embroiled in yet another fight, our voices trembled with the intensity of it…

The sexual tension stretched on paper thin wires between the two of us in those moments was more than obvious to my eyes.

I had no doubt that Sakura had no idea that this was what caused most of our heated "discussions". I had myself, and only myself, to blame for this. _She_ had never given any indication that she wished to sleep with me, and _she_ wasn't the one that had to indulge in maneuvers reminiscent of my mid-teenage years, soaking myself in shower after shower of ice cold water in the hopes that yet another erection would fade without having to be touched.

This was a threat I had not foreseen or prepared for. I had known that I would be tempted, that I would see things while living with her that I might be inclined to wish for as my own. I knew that my lust for Sakura would only get worse the more that I spent time with her. I hadn't realized that it could do… _this_, though.

The one time before that I had been faced with anything even close to this level of desire had been the one sided fight over the subway, but I had been unerringly confident we would get along and avoid anything as hazardous as her challenging my resolve and temper.

Not only had I been wrong, I had been the one to start the disagreement that led to all others.

As much as I wished that I could take it back, and as much as I hoped for the simple disappearance of the feelings that surged through the air while we fought over things like apple juice prices, the correct angle for a television to be placed at, and what the right time for dinner to be served was (I still stood by the opinion of seven p.m. sharp), I knew that wishes would get me less than nothing.

What could I do about it? I couldn't just dismiss how I felt for the girl. The words of devotion were etched in my heart as deeply as anything could be. They wouldn't just go away, and neither would my longing for the more womanly part of her.

I came to no conclusion that would end well, dismissing the thought that coming out with what I thought of her would help anything, and simply continued as we had been, putting up with the embarrassments of her effects on me as they came while trying to ignore the building tension between us.

I would like to say that this was the only difficulty that I encountered during Sakura's first half year with me in my home, but it would be an untruth that I am loath to tell. I was not taken aback that she resolutely stood by the apparent promise that she had made to herself about wearing her wedding ring for the remainder of her days, delighted that this would effectively keep other males from making any moves on her, but in this I was wrong.

While the ring did forestall some, others who saw how much space she kept between my and her person (some seemed to think that I was her significant other while we were out in public; of course, I never did anything to discourage this assumption, so perhaps they had good reason to think thusly) completely disregarded the ring she bore, single-minded to woo this young, grief stricken woman no matter the cost of her previous marriage or of her loss.

Chief among her pursuers, and the most annoyingly determined of them, was the one I had warned against doing exactly as he was; Sasori Akasuna.

I had imagined that Sasori would be difficult to deter, as he seemed to have a plan, and I was correct; he made the very excellent move of proposing friendship to Sakura, though I was privy to his real intentions even though Sakura not revealed them to me; he was hoping that his closeness to her would breed higher feelings within the woman of his interests and one day spur her on to allowing him to take her as his own.

I am pleased to inform that, while Sakura did accept his friendship, she gave no indication of being interested in the man, and this was more than enough cause for me to smirk childishly behind the man's back every time I saw him.

I did not need her having told me the latter half of her new "friend's" intentions; she had told me that she had gained a relationship with the man, but had neglected to mention the fact that he wanted her on purpose. I wasn't sure why she hadn't told me, even if my cold demeanor allowed for little easy conversation between us anymore, but it was not hard to guess at his real motives since I had known what he had wanted from the time he had first met her.

While her not sharing with me grated against my nerves and made me want to confront her about the trust she should have in me, I was content with her platonic disinterest in the man and let the matter lie where she had left it.

In the end, after subtracting the feelings that shouldn't have been there in the first place and the mystery of Sakura's more subtle moods, the arrangement we had fallen into was more than satisfactory.

My sons were happy again, both had progressed in their growth and knowledge, and I myself was a better father. Sakura was recovering at a steady pace, though I wished that she had not been so quick about it, and while I despised the fact that it had happened, she had made a new friend as well. Everything seemed to be for the best…

Until the day that I realized exactly how wrong our situation truly was.

* * *

"That's not how they want you to do it yet, Kenji. Right now, they want you to leave the remaining numbers after you finish dividing the offered numbers; you won't be dealing with decimals until you are older. Don't get ahead of yourself," I admonished lightly, tapping my finger against the instructions on the top of the worksheet my son was working on, and his cheeks flushed as he nodded in acquiescence of my gentle reprimand.

"I see. I'm sorry, father, I just thought that they wanted me to do it right…" he muttered, his shoulders slumping as he rolled the pencil he was using to do his homework with beneath his pointer finger, and I smiled down at him dotingly, placing a hand on his shoulder lightly.

The bright rays of the late afternoon sun spilled over the dining room table where my now six year old son and I sat, poring over the mathematics homework I had been helping him understand. More than eight months had passed since the day that Sakura had first moved in with us, and as I sat beside Kenji, I could barely tell that he had lost anything.

He sometimes fell into slight despondency, when reminded of his loss by something he heard or saw, but overall he had recovered himself as completely as his caretaker had.

Or as improved as she had _seemed_ to be, up until two days ago.

A slight frown pulled at the corners of my mouth, and I turned a languid eye to the doorway into the kitchen that I sat across the dining room table from, beyond which I could hear the sounds of a broom against the floor.

Everything had seemed to be going well to my eyes, besides the fights that Sakura and I indulged in and the attentions of men who I thought unworthy of her, but two days previous to this she had abruptly started to avoid me.

I hadn't said anything that might have offended her that she hadn't already forgiven (everyone says things that they don't mean while embroiled in passionate arguments), I had given her no reason for her to act in such a manner as far as I knew… but the fact remained that every time I walked into a room, she found a reason to leave it.

For obvious reasons, this discontented me. Sure, I _acted_ like I had removed myself from all care of her besides to help her get better, and I _pretended_ to be aloof to any of her feelings, paying attention only to my sons and my job, but it was just that; a performance.

I still cared for her more deeply than I could say and I still worried for her condition. She didn't know that, but surely our friendship still meant enough to her for her to realize that I was simply allowing her to have the peace of mind that she had craved.

If she hadn't wished for me to desist in my closeness to her, she shouldn't have rejected me.

I shook my head minutely, ridding myself of the bitter accusation in my mind. That was not fair of me, and I would not allow the thought to fester. I hadn't had any right to be as close as I had been when she had done that, and as such I had no right to my feelings on that note. They weren't even worth considering.

What _was_ worth my consideration, however, was the reason that she had suddenly placed so much distance between the two of us. I found myself having a hard time believing that Sakura had all of a sudden been abruptly offended by my aloof manner and had distanced herself as retribution, or that she was less well off than I had thought.

Surely this had nothing to do with me… but I still had to find out what was wrong. The two days that I had allowed her to keep the space of at least ten feet at all times between us was long enough, too long in fact, and I would have an answer from her whether I had to hold her down to keep her from running or not.

Squeezing Kenji's shoulder comfortingly, I turned my gaze back to him and gave his expectant expression a sincere smile.

"Do not apologize, son. You are doing well, and I am proud of you. I have to go speak with Sakura, but don't hesitate to call me if you need me again," I prompted, and he nodded quickly, his eyes shining at the praise I had given him, and leaned over to hug me before turning back to his work, gaze sharp and focused on the problems he faced.

I let the smile I wore linger as I stood and ran a hand over the top of his head, smoothing a lock of his hair down gently before turning to face my own dilemmas, my gaze bearing a weight just as heavy and strident as my son's and the doting grin fading into a flat and expressionless line. I was used to wearing this façade by now, one that gave nothing away while in the girl I loved's presence, and even though I hated it more than the half smile I used to use as my cover, it was necessary to my plan.

Letting Sakura see the true depth of my feelings for her would be nothing less than detrimental.

Strengthening my resolve to remain cool and detached when facing her, I took the necessary steps around the dining room table and across the room to the still lit doorway, eyes narrowed and determined. I kept my steps light and measured, even though I wanted nothing more than to run to Sakura's side and shake the truth of her unhappiness from her, and was convinced, due to her not being as sensitively inclined as I, that she would not hear my approach.

I was wrong, however, because when I was only a few feet from the kitchen doorway, the movement of the broom became rushed and frenzied (it had fallen mysteriously silent for a few moments, confusing me greatly), followed directly by the clatter of the trashcan, a hollow wooden thump, and quick footsteps fleeing in the opposite direction.

I let out a sigh at the discouraging indications that she had escaped as I rounded the corner, finding nothing within the kitchen that indicated that I was incorrect in my assumption. She had left the overhead light on in her haste in leaving the room, the broom lying fallen in the middle of the floor and the dustpan abandoned on the counter beside the trashcan.

These were disturbing indications of the depth of her want to avoid my person; the girl was a neat freak and had insisted, ever since the fight over her being allowed to clean, that everything be kept in its proper place within my home.

I was glad for the change, the forceful cleanliness a welcome transformation from having to trip over toys on the staircase and searching fruitlessly every morning for the coffee can, but it merely made Sakura deserting her chore all the more troubling. She was obsessive compulsive over making sure everything was in its rightful place, especially dealing with anything that she had been using, but she hadn't even bothered to put away the cleaning solution she had used when scrubbing the counters to a shine.

This needed to stop.

Instead of allowing Sakura the luxury of escaping me as I had been doing for the past few days, I gave chase instead, striding quickly into the living room, across the wide expanse of flooring, and up the stairs, proceeding in her exact footsteps past Roku and my own bedrooms and over to stand before her own forcibly closed door.

She hadn't been far ahead of me, having only closed the door a few seconds before I had mounted the head of the stairs, and if anything she had potentially only made it as far as her bed at this point, not even having had time to hide within her adjoining bathroom.

Allowing a grin of triumph over cornering her to lift my formerly despondent lips, I reached out a hand to knock on the door, fully expecting to receive an answer, a few weak excuses in response to my accusations, and then an understanding of why her behavior could not be allowed to continue.

My knuckles had almost reached the door when I heard something that shook me to my very core.

I froze in place at the gut wrenching sob that came from beyond the wooden surface I stood before, the choked cry of misery making my eyes shoot wide and my every movement suspend into stillness. From the closeness of the cries, she hadn't even moved beyond the few feet directly around the doorframe, most likely leaning right against the surface at which I was staring incredulously, my mind whirling numbly.

What had made her so miserable that she had resorted to such hysterics?

Another sob, filled with agony so poignant that I flinched backwards, ripped through the air, and my throat tightened in response, my gaze dropping to my feet and my hand falling to my side listlessly.

There was only one reason why she would be so affected after having been fleeing me, one motivation as to why she would be collapsed in the company of only her own pain while weeping so bitterly… I had done this to her with my lack of rapport as I had, only moments before, been fervently denying.

My lips thinned as the girl continued to cry out in her despair, obviously unaware of the audience she had acquired. I had not realized that she was this badly hurt by my actions of late. I knew she had felt some measure of discomfort over the distance I had placed between us, but this… I had never guessed that she was so unhappy.

That did not excuse me from my involvement, however; I was responsible for the sadness the girl was lost in, _I_ was accountable for every tear that she shed, and let the guilt over the pain I had caused her have its way with me.

I had been selfish; wanting, in the end, to save myself from the agony of being too close, and had done irreparable damage to the one I was supposed to be trying to help.

The inevitability of yet another failing of my own hand was not allowed to sink its poisonous claws into me, however, as I narrowed my eyes and clenched my jaw, immediately throwing aside the dastardly word _irreparable_.

This was not beyond my ability to repair. I knew how to fix this, and I had to, not only for the evident good that it would do for her, but for the sake of the friendship that had slowly been being destroyed by my taciturnity.

It was obvious to me now that I had not been helping her as I had thought that I had been. All I had done was forced her to think that I didn't care about her, that I only wanted what was best for my sons and that she came as an annoying and burdensome second. I had been taking out my bitterness over my own place in her heart on her, an unrighteous and despicable notion, and had driven her to the depths of such agony that she could do nothing more than sit by herself and cry.

I was a fiend, a disgraceful reprobate of the worst sort, but I knew what had to be done, and by _god_ would I do it, no matter the cost.

She needed to be reminded of the person I had used to be, a man who stood by her side and upheld her wants and needs above his own. She had been strong when I had been the trusted shadow behind her, upright and confident no matter the struggle or the difficulty.

I could see now that she had needed me to stay in that place; with the love of her life gone, I was the only thing that she had left to cling to. I would have been the wall against which she placed her back, the rod that she held to as she took her first steps on her own.

I had removed myself from that position, and while she had recovered from her loss of her husband as well as could be expected for the time that had passed, she had fallen to her knees in a place where she had needed to remain standing, all because of my absence. She had needed me, my friendship and my person both, and I had hidden behind walls of ice to keep myself safe from temptation.

No more.

I had been a coward and a fool to let this go on for so long without seeing the extent of my mistakes. It infuriated me that my blundering had merely escalated through my efforts to circumvent it, that I had been too blind to see the wrong of what I had done, but I would not allow this to continue, not with the growing discontent and sadness emitting from the room before me.

I knew well the difficulties I would suffer for my return to what we once had been. The attraction she held for me would multiply tenfold now that I allowed, pressed even, the closeness of our friendship once more.

I would not be able to avoid contact with her, I would not be permitted to dismiss her so easily… and I wasn't sure that I would be able to survive the fights that we had if they intensified as I felt that they would, now that we would be friends once more.

The sexual tension was already strained to the tightness of harp strings… if even one of the thin wires snapped, if just one thing loosed my control… I would not be able to restrain my lust any longer and could foresee abandoning all of my inhibitions in favor of dragging Sakura to my bed and taking her so harshly that she would never forget the moment that I entered her.

I shook my head, putting aside my current thought and leaning my forearm against the doorframe I stood before, laying my forehead against it and listening to the lessening pitch of the whimpers behind the door as a sliding, shifting sound whispered through the growing quiet, evidencing, I assumed, Sakura collapsing against the surface and sinking to the ground as her strength failed her.

Considering how hard it would be for me was what had caused this problem in the first place. I needed to focus on Sakura's well-being only, as this was what the true concern was, and I could not afford to let myself forget that again.

My interests were the care of my sons and the bettering of my sister in law, not the protection of my ridiculously fragile pride. I had survived gunshot wounds, attempted murders, out of their mind homicidal maniacs, and a whole weekend of shopping in Miami with my mother and her friends previous to my departure to college; surely the endurance of the rest of the time Sakura spent with me was dwarfed by those occurrences.

What great hardship to overcome were overwhelming desire and all consuming, covetous affection?

I snorted at the blatant sarcasm even my thoughts employed when trying to dismiss the weight of my infatuation, knowing full well that such a thing as my interests would never pass out of existence. I would just have to man up and deal with them.

I was not the first, nor would I be the last, that ever had desired that which he could not have. It was human nature to question our limitations, to look at an object of great value or beauty and want it for ourselves, whether we could have it or not.

I was not exempt from the designs of my genes, nor of the draw my sex had to natural beauty, extraordinary compatibility and most especially abundant youth (and therefore fertility, though such a thing was still an unknown in Sakura's case), and as long as Sakura lived and as long as I remained the same person that I was, I would always want her.

I sighed, finally turning from the now quiet room I faced and walked back down the hallway, eyes downcast and hands moving up to slide into my pockets. No, it would not be easy, but when had my life been? I had not taken the easy path in any course of my life because I enjoyed a challenge.

It was for this reason that I had dropped out of Yale and did everything that I could to enter the New York Police Academy, quickly rising within the ranks by not just showing my natural capability in law enforcement, but my drive to be the best simply because I wanted to be.

I had taken all of the most difficult classes and specializations that they had allowed me to (which was a significant amount; even though my father had almost disowned me for throwing away my Ivy League college opportunity to become a _cop_, of all things, he did, in the end, support my decision and allowed the funds from my former college to transfer over, ensuring me all the leverage that my own talents hadn't given me), and not only had I graduated at the top of my class, not to mention two years earlier than I had been supposed to, I was also the youngest man in the history of the force to attain the station that I had.

Naturally, this earned me more than respect and admiration, and I was not entirely, at the time, concerned with turning away the droves of women that were drawn to my power, money, and growing fame. Most had been far too simple minded for me, however; I found no interest in their meager mindsets and even though the sex was as enjoyable as the next thing, I wanted more than the ease of smirking at the woman and having her swoon into my arms.

No, I had wanted a challenge in this as well.

This resulted in my chasing after women that didn't show any interest in me, ones who brushed me off initially or even entirely. Alora had been such a woman, unimpressed by my station as she was currently dating (if sleeping with him to get her picture in the paper could be counted as such) the mayor of New York City, but I had spent much time, just as much money, and even more dignity winning her over.

She had not been worth it in the end, but I had enjoyed the chase tremendously and it further validates my point. I never went for the easy road, and, if there needed to be further evidence, you could turn and look behind me at the girl hiding in her room. It had not been a conscious decision for me to pursue a romance with her, much less fall in love with her, but my attraction to the seemingly unattainable had shown through again.

After all, what woman would be more difficult to win than my brother's wife?

I let out a small amused chuckle at my thought process, shaking my head and beginning my returning descent of the stairs, looking on as Roku toddled past the end of the stairwell in the direction of the living room, mumbling to himself and looking around as if he had lost something. This would be more than just the thrill of the hunt or the satisfaction of victory. I was dealing with a person's livelihood, their happiness, and more than simple enthusiasm would be required.

I held Sakura's future in my hands, and like hell would I allow that future to be as miserable as her past had been.

* * *

Three months passed following the night I discovered my indiscretion, brightly hued autumn leaves falling from their boughs and slowly being replaced by flake on frozen flake of snow, and I am proud to be able to claim that, for the first time that I could remember (in the past six years at least), everything seemed to be going right.

It had been difficult to resume the relationship Sakura and I had once had, as entrenched in rivalry as we had been, but I had not expected her to warm to me immediately. I had taken the few days that she had continued to avoid me, after my firm decision, in stride, but had made sure that she knew I was trying to change.

I had made pointed but friendly conversation with her at dinner every night, the only time that she could not successfully thwart my attempts to draw nearer to her, and after almost a full week of humoring her but at the same time pushing my returning attentions on her, she had slinked into the living room to watch television on the sofa across the room from me after our evening meal instead of retreating to her room, avoiding my gaze but not discouraging the hope that rose within me that pressed me to think that maybe… just _maybe_, this would work.

Unfortunately I had almost immediately scared her off again by ostentatiously abandoning my reading of my newspaper in favor of going to seat myself beside her, sitting much too close and striking up a conversation about the plans I had for the weekend, unequivocally including her in the activities I had scheduled and asking her opinion on them.

She had hurriedly excused herself after a mere half hour of having my presence forced on her, fleeing to her room and not reemerging until the next morning. She did not cry that night as she had during the previous few, however; I could clearly hear when she did through the thin wall that separated our sleeping establishments, and from this I gained new insight; my inclination seemed to have been correct, and my efforts to right the wrongs I had appropriated were working.

New vigor was introduced to my exertions following this discovery, and I did all in my power to regain that which I had lost and had not even realized it. It felt good to return to my selfish habits, of speaking with the girl in length about any and all things and of reveling in her closeness to my person.

I had forgotten what having a friend who didn't constantly rag on me about my nonexistent sex life was like, and slowly but surely, as each day passed us by and as Sakura gradually came back to the position of valued companion, I found myself, once again, with my beautiful best friend at my side, now a more than willing presence.

I cannot say that it was easy, or that I did not selfishly hoard every second of her time, every iota of her regard, that she gave to me. Our fights did not lessen, as I had thought, but due to some blessing from a merciful and unknown god, they also did not grow worse; they simply grew more… unbearable.

There was no longer the fearful distance between us while we shouted in each other's faces, due to our compatriotism, and in each and every centimeter that she barely kept between us, every time she poked her finger into my shoulder or viciously reamed me up one side and down another while only the few inches of the back of my sofa separated us, I could feel an itch on the palms of my hands and a roaring fire in the cavity of my chest that demanded to be quenched.

It was a wanton desire to grab on to the brash woman, to hold her to me despite the struggle she would put up in her confused ire, to kiss her furiously so she would know how much I was holding back regarding my temper as well as my libido, and to finally, _finally_ take her to my bed, where she belonged, to indulge in the most passionate night of her life with her.

It was difficult to resist the pull of such contemplations, especially when I saw how she was while we were not embroiled in our disagreements. She readily accepted the gestures that I extended, ones that had been a part of our friendship since the first time I had met her.

I gloried in her acceptance when she no longer scooted away as I sat beside her in the living room, I smirked unseen when she began to warm to the conversations I forced to go on between us. I crowed with pride over how easy it was for her to respond well when I began to call from work at lunch times, inquiring after her health, how her day had been progressing, and if she would like for me to return so we could spend the hour together (an offer that was more for myself than her, of course; it can be understood why I was discomfited that she never accepted it), and, on the occasions that I could not stay my hand, I relished the blush that spread over her delicate cheekbones as I handed her a bouquet of flowers I had bought for her or presented her with a meal I had cooked by myself, reserved for special occasions like her birthday, her favorite holiday, and any other event that she let me spoil her on.

My stalwart decision to change my ways had repaired the situation and then some, I came to discover on one of the nights that we sat together after a fulfilling evening meal; not only had my and Sakura's friendship returned to its old pattern and shape, there seemed to be even more between us than before, a pressure in the atmosphere and a spark in the air that I hoped was more than just my hopeful imagination.

It was something that I would have liked to call mutual attraction, as it seemed to pull both ways between us while we talked or laughed or sat quietly together or even fought, and I couldn't help but wonder at it. The feeling fluctuated, almost like we were fighting against it by ignoring it like I forced myself to do, but I found that the times that its pull was the strongest was directly after I had done something especially thoughtful or when she was employing _that_ look, the enigmatic emotion I still had yet to name.

I liked, when I sat next to Sakura and watched her from the corner of my eye as she told another fairy tale to my intently listening son, to think that it was what I suspected. That now that the girl was older, a woman in every right, she would see that the attentions that I gave her were nowhere near the platonic actions of a mere friend. That she would realize, without my being forced to reveal my deepest, darkest secrets, that I loved her and that she loved me too, as more than her valued confidant and brother in law.

How I wished for such a thing…

It was only a hopeful and cruel contemplation, however, because the light of such knowledge never lit her eyes when I turned to her to comment on the story she was telling, or when I caught her attention with a gentle hand pressed to the skin of her arm.

I should not have thought that she would realize simply because she was older, of course; it was not as though I thought her stupid, far from it. I was simply confident in the façade of calm and indifference that I wore when not dealing in something that called to rise my stronger passions, like the love I felt for my sons or yet another late night argument between myself and the love of my life.

Despite my thoughts on the growing feelings between the two of us, and my hopes of those feelings becoming more pronounced down the road, I was content with the returned feeling of home that resounded within the walls of my apartment.

It was a secret joy to return each evening, to not only be greeted enthusiastically by my sons but to be welcomed home by Sakura as well, though I would have much preferred the distance between us be eliminated by the simple step forward it would take to catch her into my arms, my lips then descending onto hers in a warm show of the love that we shared…

I snorted silently, shaking my head minutely and finishing the work my fingers were occupied with; buttoning up the shirt of the excited and jumpy year and a half old boy that sat on the edge of the bed before me.

That was not something that would happen anytime soon, if ever; it was not worth the melancholy I would feel as I realized, once again, the lack of romantic feelings between my sister in law and myself, even if I imagined there to be some.

I needed my full mind this night, and to have it hampered by contemplations of what I could not have was not acceptable; I would be spending the evening of Christmas Eve not only with my sons, but with Sakura as well, at the annual Winter Wonderland Festival held in Central Park, and if I were to survive how happy she would be this evening without doing as I wished and reaching out in the most romantic manner possible, I needed to stay focused on the truth of the matter.

Sakura loved my brother, I loved my sons, and the relationship my sister in law and I had could extend no further than the twisted fantasies my imagination plagued me with.

As such, I finished the climb of my fingers up the front of Roku's shirt and smoothed the collar of it down gently, wrestling with the boy to keep him from escaping before I could finish dressing him.

"Daddy, wanna go! Christmas!" he protested when I thwarted his attempt to wriggle off of the edge of the bed yet again, and I threw him a reprimanding but soft look, taking his resistant arm and threading it through the sleeve of a miniature waistcoat.

"I know, Roku. We will go soon. Now behave, or we won't get there in time," I admonished dotingly, unable to become angry with the boy due to the pleasant ache in my chest that made itself known every time that he called me daddy, and Roku finally acquiesced, falling into twitching stillness and waiting as patiently as he was able while being tempted with the allure of the holiday, dark eyes so reminiscent of my own flickering over everything that fell under his gaze speculatively but without interest.

"Father."

I finished sliding the tiny suit coat onto my youngest son's shoulders, straightening it habitually, before looking over my shoulder at my eldest, my position kneeling on the floor allowing me to meet his gaze and register that he was already dressed appropriately and was, quite obviously, anxious to get going. I smiled lightly before beckoning him inside his brother's room, mindfully keeping a restraining hand on Roku's shoulder as he was bound to take advantage of my distracted state and try to make his escape.

"You appear to be ready, Kenji, but I trust that you knew that you needed not seek my approval for your apparel. I have faith in your desire to impress. As this is the case, I am sure you needed to ask me something. What is it?" I inquired, receiving renewed struggles from Roku as my assumption of his intent was proved correct, and Kenji gave the fighting boy a look of vague and well hidden annoyance before turning back to me.

"The festival opens in fifteen minutes, and I just wanted to know if everyone was ready. I needn't have asked, apparently…" he trailed off, throwing his younger brother a veiled but unconcealed glare and muttering "_kono usuratonkachi_" under his breath in hopes that I would either not hear or not understand him, but I did both and immediately turned to correct him.

"_Kenji_!" I scolded sharply, my eyes narrowing dangerously in response to my son's blatant rudeness, and his shoulders slumped in mortification as he realized that I knew what he had said. "You know better, and no son of mine will speak so crudely. I don't know where you heard that, or who you heard it from, and I do not care. All I am concerned with is _never_ hearing such disrespect and foulness from your mouth again. Should I even _think_ that you have lost control of your language so crassly even _once_ more, I will wash your mouth so thoroughly that you will taste soap for a week. Now apologize to your brother," I commanded, voice daring him to disobey, but I needn't have worried for his compliance.

He immediately bowed to my will, averting his eyes and swallowing with difficulty. "I'm sorry, Roku. I didn't mean what I said," he muttered, the uttering of his name drawing the attention of my completely oblivious captive, and his voice seemed sincere enough to my ears that I was placated. I pressed on, however, lowering my chin and looking at my oldest son severely.

"And…" I prompted, and Kenji chanced a glance at me before lowering his gaze once again, a shiver of chagrin shaking his shoulders. "I apologize to you as well, father. My language was uncalled for and I am sorry that it displeased you. Please forgive me."

I nodded in response, letting the happening go and allowing Kenji to escape from the weight of my unhappiness. I trusted the boy to realize that he would not be allowed such insolence a second time and not suffer for it, so I felt no need to press the issue unduly.

"Very well, son. You are forgiven, but may I inquire as to the reason behind your discordance? I hope you have an excuse and were not simply being impetuous for no reason…" I left off ominously, and Kenji straightened out of his slump, looking me in the eye and nodding firmly.

"Thank you, father. I did not have a very good reason for it, but… I was annoyed. Roku always seems to make us late, and I don't want to miss this," he explained to me softly, and I quirked an eyebrow at his overstatement, straightening the tie around Roku's neck and plucking a string from his shoulder absentmindedly ("Daaaddyyyy… dressed! Wanna go now!").

"_Always_ is an exaggeration, Kenji, and such things are not solid standpoints for a good argument. I think that you can recall just last week that you were the one that wasn't ready when everyone else was, and that more often than not, Sakura takes more than her fair share of our patience while waiting to be off," I muttered pointedly, amusement leaking in to my tone despite my correction of my son's speech (I would not have been so harsh on him and his progress in mastering the language we spoke, but he had asked me to, so that he could be more like me, and I had been too pleased by his desire to deny him), and Kenji nodded sagely.

"That is true. Do you think that she is ready?" he queried, and I shrugged one shoulder as I turned back to Roku, clinically inspecting the way his hair spiked at the back, so redolent of my brother's favored hairstyle, to make sure that I didn't need to comb through it again following the tussle I had been forced to have with the boy while dressing him.

"You may ask her, as it is so close to time to leave; inform her for me that she has five minutes before we are set to depart. Remember your manners; always knock before entering a lady's rooms, and ask for permission to enter if she doesn't immediately give it to you," I said before standing and finally allowing Roku to jump down from the bed, the small boy immediately zooming excitedly in a circle in the middle of the room before shooting past his brother and out the door, enthusiastically shouting, "Christmas, daddy! Wanna go now!" in his wake.

I smiled after his retreating form before nodding to my still lingering older son, walking over to his side and settling a hand on his shoulder. "Roku and I will be downstairs; make sure that Sakura puts on her scarf, gloves, and hat, and that you do the same. It's going to be cold tonight, and I want everyone to be comfortable," I said, reaching over and straightening the tie holding back my son's long hair, and he nodded eagerly before pulling from my grasp and tripping down to the end of the hallway, halting before the door and knocking three times, his hands then moving behind his back and his posture straightening.

I smiled, more to myself than anyone else, as I watched my son fidgeting nervously with his appearance while awaiting Sakura letting him in, thereafter shaking my head and turning Roku's bedroom light off before striding to the staircase and beginning my descent. Kenji had become very close with my friend, nearly always to be found near or around her while he wasn't at school (I occasionally found him asleep with her on stormy nights when I went to check on how my boys were handling the weather), and it was very obvious to me that he had developed a schoolboy crush on the woman.

It is not difficult to see why; not only was Sakura every bit a highly desirable, buxom female, the curves of her body full and her beauty undeniable, she was also very intelligent and loved books and stories and tall tales as much as Kenji did. I knew his admiration was not simply for her body, and it was for this reason that I did not intervene.

The attraction would pass when he came to realize that Sakura was far older than the target group he would be lumped with, and, even though I shouldn't have been judging whether or not I should be in the first place, I was not threatened by his interest in her further than being discontented that he took up Sakura's attention when I was desirous of it.

I quickly found my wayward son jumping on the rug in the middle of the living room excitedly, obviously having been waiting impatiently for me to follow him. He proudly held up his coat, hat, and a pair of gloves as I approached, smiling happily as he offered them to me.

"Cold clothes, daddy! Then go!" he told me pointedly, and I smiled back as I took the articles from him, laying them on the couch he stood beside and making the grin on his face fade. I gave him a reassuring look as I walked past him to the row of mirrors on the wall next to the doorway into the kitchen, looking into one of them and reaching up to fiddle with my bangs vainly.

"Not yet, Roku. We have to wait for Sakura and Kenji," I informed him while inspecting my reflection closely (my desire to impress Sakura had not waned in the past year, and I made every effort to look as good as I possibly could when I knew I would be around the woman), and he let out a put upon sigh, folding his tiny arms unhappily and making me chuckle at how much he looked like my brother had at that age in that moment.

"Want to," he pouted unhappily, and I turned back to him with a soft expression.

"I know, my son. Don't worry, Sakura should be done soon," I reassured him, at the same time looking my outfit up and down carefully, and Roku looked merely more annoyed until the sound of voices came down from the upper level, instantly making him perk up and dodge around me to see if the two people coming down the stairs were ready.

I did not follow, allowing the boy to run to the bottom of the stairs. I was sure that if the two were coming down, then Sakura was definitely done dressing and I would see her in a moment. I was more interested in the conversation they were having as they finally came into earshot, in any case, and I am sure they would have desisted had I made my presence known.

"…got ready different than you too. She always put makeup and stuff all over her face. Why don't you?" I heard my elder son ask the woman he was walking with as they finally made it down the stairs, and I smirked at Sakura's laughter over the comment as she leaned over to capture Roku, who was trying to run around and around her legs as she walked.

I knew the reason for why she didn't bother with makeup as many of the members of her gender did; my brother had been astute in noting that she had no need of it, that she was breathtaking without any help from the unhealthy materials, and had informed her of such, resulting in her never again, following that day, using any of the processed oils and powders. I myself had only seen her in makeup once, on the day of her wedding, and was glad that she did not use the substances every day.

She had been heartbreakingly stunning…

"I don't really like wearing it anymore. I used to a lot, but your uncle Sasuke told me that he liked me better without it," she replied as she picked up my youngest son and slung him over her shoulder, and I nodded to myself at the expected answer.

"And besides…" she began again as she stepped around the corner into the room, and I couldn't keep myself from interjecting, taking the few steps required to bring me to Sakura's side and looking down on her with a warm smile, the love that I felt for her as she coddled my sons multiplying tenfold in my eyes.

_God_, if only she could see how much I wanted her by my side in more than a technical manner…

"She doesn't need it to look beautiful," I commented, immediately drawing the pair's attention, and Sakura blushed appealingly at the compliment, her eyes lowering shyly to where her fingers were playing with the end of her scarf, and I had a sudden urge to reach out, take her chin in hand, and raise her eyes back to my own so she would be forced to acknowledge my feelings, so that she would finally _see_ the depths of my desires, but I kept my hands to myself and contented the stirring in my stomach with the reassurance that her blush over my words was enough.

Kenji did not notice the silent exchange, merely tilting his head at my words as he folded his arms, watching me take up the coat I had waiting for me on the back of the loveseat and slipping it on.

"But mother always said that women needed it to look good. Aren't girls _supposed_ to wear it?" he asked with interest, and I shook my head as I did up the last of the buttons on my coat, reaching out to take Roku from Sakura and settling him next to me on the floor, keeping a restraining hand around his wrist while I reached for his coat before trying to force the squirming boy into it.

"That was something that your mother never understood. Some women do need to wear makeup; they have what is referred to as manufactured beauty and they are the most numerous kind of woman that you will find. Some wear it to enhance their natural looks and have what is known as accentuated beauty; they are a little harder to find, and even harder to distinguish from the rest of the riff raff. But a select few have what is called true beauty; they could roll out of bed and look more stunning than any diamond," I said significantly, directing an glance at Sakura as she continued fidgeting with the end of her scarf, and I frowned slightly when I saw that she was obviously missing the fact that I was referring to her as member of the last category.

She more than deserved her place in it.

Sighing and continuing with my struggle to get Roku into his coat ("Daddy, wanna do it! Me!"), I finished what I was saying to my son. "When you get older you will understand, Kenji, but know this; if you find a woman who is truly beautiful, never let her escape you."

Finally managing to get Roku to cooperate minutely, I looked up from his successfully donned jacket in time to see Kenji roll his eyes at my comment, a bad habit he had picked up from Sakura that I would have to speak with him about later, as he and Sakura both started putting on their own coats.

"All the girls at school are _stupid_, father. They do nothing but giggle and play and act silly all the time, and I have no patience for such things. Besides, none of them are pretty at all. If they were more like Sakura…" he started explaining, fingers moving deftly over the front of his jacket, before he realized the girl he was speaking of was standing right next to him and acquired an embarrassed flush to his cheeks, and I chuckled to myself as Sakura looked down on the boy with a flattered smile lifting her lips.

Shaking my head and turning back to Roku, who was attempting to slide out of my grasp again and make a break for the front door, I zipped up his coat and pulled his winter cap over his hair, brushing the longer locks out of his eyes for him where they pressed down.

"They will grow, son. Someday you will see that, but don't concern yourself with it for now. Do you have your gloves?" I asked, standing and looking over at Kenji as I released my captive (who immediately shot towards the front door like an arrow from a bow), and he waved a pair of mittens at me in answer before stuffing them in his pocket.

Satisfied with this answer, I reached down to feel my pockets to make sure I had my wallet and keys, thereafter looking up to look at Sakura. I had merely been intending to gaze upon her loveliness, to relish in her happiness tonight, but instead found her already looking at me. She blushed as I looked back at her, obviously still taken aback with the fact that I had commented on her comeliness, and I pushed back the smirk that threatened to rise in response.

"Are you ready, Sakura?" I asked so I would have a good reason for looking over at her, and she nodded quickly before looking away and biting at her bottom lip.

I looked jealously on the movement for a short second, wishing for the right to be able to do the same thing to her pouting lower lip, before forcing myself to look away and over to the door (both of my sons were waiting expectantly for me in front of it), taking the necessary strides to approach it.

"Let's get going then. We don't want to be late," I muttered pointedly, unlocking the door and pulling it open, and my companions filed out before me in response, Sakura edging up alongside Kenji and leaning over to hold a whispered conversation with him.

I raised an eyebrow as they stood together talking quietly, my son's cheeks tinting lightly once more in response to something he said and Sakura's laugh echoing off the walls of the hall we stood in, and I turned to lock the door while at the same time holding on to the hood of Roku's coat with a restraining hand, making it impossible for him to make his way to the elevator and press the button prematurely as he liked to do. I was consternated by the selfish desire I had to repossess Sakura's attention, to make her focus singly on me and only me; was I really _resentful_ towards my _son_?

My obsession was becoming truly perturbing and alarming in intensity…

A tugging at my sleeve tore my attention away from where I had been staring intently at the keys in my hand, and I turned to look inquiringly at Kenji, who was wearing a hopeful and excited expression.

"Father, can me and Sakura take the stairs? Please?" he queried plaintively, and I smiled softly while Sakura stepped up behind him and smoothed the collar of his jacket down, placing the keys I held back in my pocket and nodding minutely.

"It is Sakura and I, Kenji, and when making a request you say may, not can. But yes, you may take the stairs as long as you are careful. No banister jumping this time," I reminded him firmly (the last time he and Sakura had gone on their usual sprint down the stairwell Kenji had tried to cheat, even though Sakura made sure to let him win inconspicuously every time, vaulting over one of the railings to get ahead of her, and had twisted his ankle in the process. I had been most displeased and had forbidden him from the races for the past month), making sure he knew that the repercussions for disobedience would not be so lenient a second time, and he nodded exuberantly before letting out an exultant cry of joy as he spun around and ran over to stand next to the stairwell door, practically bouncing in place.

I let a doting grin pull at my lips as I watched him, happy that he could find entertainment in the exercise, before I looked over at Sakura, the platonic affection in my gaze changing to barely veiled love, though I am sure she noticed neither the change nor the actual emotion itself.

"We will meet you in the lobby shortly. Make sure he doesn't get too excited, won't you?" I asked of her, and when she nodded silently in response, I couldn't help but make my attention more…personal.

"You be careful too," I said softly, meeting her eyes meaningfully for a moment, before turning and walking over to the elevator, now having to drag Roku with me ("Daddy, _no_! Wanna go stairs with Kenji!"), and even though I felt Sakura's eyes on my back as I strode away and pressed my finger to the button that would hail the machine, I did not turn back to meet her gaze. My cowardice did not allow me to discover what she was feeling in response to what I had said, and though I held out hope for it being positive…

My fear for it being negative was greater.

I listened as Sakura and Kenji burst through the door and away into the stairwell, waiting until they were gone before allowing my shoulders to slump. When had I become such a weakling? I had never shied away from a hardship or a difficulty before meeting Sakura… was it her that had made me a softer man, a readier receptacle for gentler emotions? If I could blame her for that, I suppose I could also thank her; the man I had been before meeting her would not have been suited to raising children.

Even now I was harsher on them than most male role models, ensuring they conformed to the higher standard of living and greater expectations of our family, but I did not hold myself above them or consider their wants a waste of my time. I appreciated my sons for who they were, not for their accomplishments (my own father had never mastered this trait), and for this I was grateful… but I still wished I could have the daring to face Sakura and find out exactly how she really felt for me.

Roku had been twisting in my grasp while we had waited for the elevator, mounted it when it arrived and stood within as it descended, pulling against my restraining hand on the scruff of his jacket and complaining about being held in place. After a few moments he looked up at me, confused as to why I did not release him or reprimand his antics, before stopping and staring at my conflicted expression.

"…daddy?" he asked curiously, reaching a hand out and poking me in the side, and I snapped out of my depressive blankness to look down on him.

"Yes?" I asked before blinking and looking around myself, surprised that we were in the elevator and already halfway down the building. Had I been so lost in thought that I hadn't even noticed where I was going and what I was doing? Apparently so…

"Daddy sad?" Roku pressed, tiny hand attaching to the hem of my thigh length coat, and I furrowed my eyebrows before shaking my head and reaching down to tick my finger against the end of his nose, making him instinctually move his head away from the gesture.

"No, Roku. Daddy was just thinking. It's okay," I assured him, even though the lie made me sicker than the truth, and he responded with a bright smile as he broke out of his childish concern, reaching out and hugging my leg tightly.

"It's okay," he parroted, looking up at me with his innocent grin and contented gaze, and even though I knew he had no idea what I had been thinking about, or that I even needed reassurance, I was still struck by his words.

I suddenly found it very hard to swallow as I looked on my youngest son, an undissolvable lump forming in my throat that pressed out on all sides, refusing to be dislodged. My heart was beating heavily in my ears, and as I reached down to pick Roku up and hug him close to me, just for the reason of having him there, I realized that it didn't matter if he had knowingly or unwittingly given me solace. All I needed was the fact that he had.

It helped immensely, having someone tell me everything would be alright, even if it wasn't true and he had no idea what he meant.

I was content to hold Roku the rest of the way down the building, burying my face in his neck and gently fingering the hair on the scruff of his neck while I whispered how much I loved him under my breath, but he wasn't happy with the forced stillness or heavy emotion and struggled in my grasp, pushing a hand against my shoulder insistently and complaining, "_Daddy_! Don't want hold. Want down."

I tried to ignore him, paying attention only to how happy I felt with him in my arms, but he would not be disregarded, reaching over to tweak my cheek uncomfortably between two fingers.

"Daddy, want down," he reminded me, pulling on the skin he was pinching, and I sighed before drawing his hand away and replacing the boy on the floor.

"Don't pinch, Roku," I reprimanded him softly as I fixed his coat where I had wrinkled it, reluctant to separate myself from him at the moment, and he nodded enthusiastically before slipping from my grasp and running over to the row of buttons that lay just out of his reach on the bronze wall of the elevator, looking up at them with interest and desire.

I retained my silence for the rest of the journey (which wasn't far, as I had missed out on half the trip and had been trying to hold on to my son for the better part of eight floors), merely watching Roku's antics with a doting but watchful eye, discouraging the boy from picking up the emergency telephone and from taking off his hat both while trying to consider as little about the outside world as possible.

The times were few when I could spend time with only my youngest son, and it wasn't fair to him; I was well aware of how discontented this could potentially make him later in life (Sasuke had always resented our father for the attention that I got from him that was never gifted to him, though he felt no bitterness towards me myself, thankfully) and hoped to circumvent it by trying my damnedest to give him equal regard.

I felt that the peaceful moment would end as soon as I stepped out of the elevator a few minutes later, guiding Roku over to where my sister in law and eldest son were waiting for us next to the enormous Christmas tree in the center of the lobby, but much to my surprise, the feeling in the air did not dissipate. I perfunctorily queried after who had won their race, though I was already sure of the answer, and listened as Kenji crowed proudly over his success once more while Sakura smiled serenely from behind him.

I was taken aback by how familial the moment felt as the group of us walked over to the door that would lead into the parking garage, all of us slipping into our gloves as we walked (Kenji helped Roku struggle into his). I knew I had felt such a thing with just my sons and Sakura before, in the confines of my own home, but I had thought that it was merely a fantasy of my depraved mind, desiring the thing that I could never have; a complete family with the girl I loved and my two sons.

This, however… this was more than real.

My attentions were recaptured when Kenji suddenly halted before the door that led outside, pausing with his hand resting on the handle as he turned to look back at Sakura contemplatively, and at the words that left his lips the moment was finally swept away, though this expression would be an understatement; total annihilation of the softness of our communion could never be referred to in such a tame way, because in the seconds after his announcement, I felt none of the emotions I previously had been. I felt only rage, passionate distemper, and of course, _jealousy_…

"What was Mr. Sasori doing to you before he went back to his desk?"

My eyes instantly chilled into icy expectation as they snapped over to gaze intently at Sakura's profile, anxious of her answer but dreading it as well. I knew the man's intentions; surely whatever he had been doing to her would not be appropriate for her to tell the boy and she would lie. I would have to discover the truth of the matter myself by actually asking her…

I was reluctant to push my way into her affairs so obviously, but I _needed_ to know. I told myself that my interest was for her sake only, that I was only trying to protect her from too early advances from a man when she was still in such poor repair after the loss of my brother…

But I knew the truth; if Sasori had given Sakura even the most innocent of intimate gestures, I would explode into fury, for the possessiveness that burned in my veins and raged in my mind was far too tempestuous to be assuaged by mere inaction. Hadn't I told him already? His interests weren't appreciated. This woman was _mine_, though I was loath to claim her as I so desired, and if he had touched her… if he had _dared_ to make a move…

I would destroy him.

Sakura's calming answer was expected as she gave my son a placating smile, waving his worry away with a careless hand, but the true direction and weight of her thoughts showed through the blush that crept up her cheeks and the hand that rose to stroke at the scarf wrapped more securely around her throat than I remembered it being before her race.

"I put my scarf on wrong and he was helping me fix it. It's nothing to worry about, Kenji," she reassured him, and he nodded and made a noise of understanding before pushing his way through the door, walking into the concrete corridor beyond and looking back to show that he was waiting for us.

I, however, was not contented by her easy explanation and intended to find out more about the happening I had been absent for, letting Roku run ahead of me to join his brother before reaching out and grabbing ahold of Sakura's arm to halt her, stopping her from entering the parking garage and allowing the door to swing closed.

I dragged her a staggering step closer to my person, allowing my expression to assume the posture that it wanted to; curious suspicion and heavy determination to discover her hidden activity weighed down my gaze as I gathered my courage to ask the questions that I needed to.

"Is that all that happened, Sakura?" I queried forcefully, tightening my grip on her elbow unconsciously, and she stared up at me in silence for a long, strained second, eyes wide and confused, obviously taken aback by my intensity, before she swallowed nervously and nodded, the fingers of her free hand still playing with the edge of the scarf she wore (I suddenly detested the material more than I had before this day; not only was it Sasuke's, _he_ had touched it, and her continuing to wear it after that was an insult and an affront).

"He was just being thoughtful," she claimed quietly, obviously trying to appease my, to her mind, sudden fit of temper, and my eyes narrowed and my jaw clenched in response. He could be thoughtful in some other way that did not involve him being anywhere near to this girl, and I was highly dissatisfied that she was reacting so exponentially to his actions when she seemed almost oblivious to mine. Where was the justice? But perhaps… perhaps she was reacting as such because she was not desirous of his motions…

I had considered this before, but had never bothered to find out; if she didn't want him, all the better. But if she did…

Fear for such an occurrence quickly being covered up by forceful resolve, I leaned down to look deep into her eyes, forcing seriousness and interest into my gaze so that she would _know_ what I was feeling in that moment.

"Was his _thoughtfulness_ welcome?" I seethed, aura intimidating even to myself, and her eyes widened even more at the unintentional huskiness my voice had acquired. I waited impatiently for her answer, discontented with her flabbergasted silence and not intending to let her escape with a meaningless excuse, but just as Sakura had opened her mouth to respond Kenji pushed the door open and leaned back into the lobby.

"I thought that we were leaving. What's taking so long?" he asked impatiently, and with a sense of foreboding acquiescence, I released Sakura's arm and turned away, gaze lingering with jealous possessiveness on her for a few moments before striding to the door and sweeping through it without another word, trusting Sakura to recover her senses by herself and follow accordingly.

As I stalked alongside my sons, hands in my pockets and gaze fixed intently on my destination (we would be taking Sakura's car tonight, as it was more family fitting and should the unimaginable happen and we got into an automobile accident, we would be more protected than we would be in my vehicle), I cursed myself with every word and in every language that I could think of.

Why had I just done that?

I wanted to hit my head against something. I could have inquired after her encounter with Sasori without revealing the fact that I was envious of the meeting. I could have retained my stoic front as unaffected brother and merely interested friend. It had not been necessary to be such an… an… inconsolable, testosterone fueled misogynist.

I was pulled from my thoughts enough to reach out and catch the bundle of keys that Sakura tossed to me as she walked around to the passenger side of her car, allowing me to take the position of driver (I was not surprised that she had; the two and a half hour fight we had had over who got to drive when on outings had taken a lot out of both of us and I am sure she hadn't forgotten yet), and I was immediately reminded by her approach to the side of the car that I had a duty to fulfill, despite my stupidity of a few minutes previous.

I didn't necessarily _have_ to, of course, but I liked to tell myself that it was the gentlemanly thing to do to refuse to allow Sakura to open her own car door, and I was nothing if not a gentleman, if not in thought then in action.

As soon as both of my children had been strapped in to their seats in the car I made a point of edging around Sakura and opening her door for her, ushering her in with an extended hand and a careful smile as I did every time we went anywhere together.

It was obvious that such a maneuver mystified her, as I was sure she had never been treated this way before (Sasuke had loved her without reproach and had made his entire life about her, but he had never been the sort of man that resorted to etiquette even at the most appropriate of times), but as she never complained about it more than to give me tired and querying looks, I found no reason to desist as it gave me secret pleasure to pamper her.

The talk the four of us indulged in on the drive to Central Park was light and excited, as was to be expected. I had never been particularly easily stirred as a child, especially when it came to emotionally moving experiences; such meaningless attitudes had been forced out of me at an early age. But nothing that my father and grandfather had been able to say or enforce had been able to steal the joy of Christmastime from my heart, and I had loved the holiday for the most part of my life.

I was still fond of it, though much less for myself than for my children, and my enthusiasm this evening would have been difficult, not to mention superfluous, to hide, and as such I did not bother.

I could tell, from the steadily growing volume of my sons' chatter, that they were anxious to reach the park and take part in the activities there. The traffic was expectantly thick, considering the gravity of not only the last minute shoppers on their way to purchase gifts, but also of all the families on their way to the same place as we were.

Parking was equally limited, even given my forecasting of the most congealed spots that would attract most of my fellow drivers, but we eventually found a spot, luckily, not too far from one of the entrances to the festival.

I could literally feel my children's delight as my companion and I loosed them from their confinement; their eyes filled with wonder as they gazed on the sculpted icy castle being used as an entry point, the crowds of mumbling and merrymaking "elves" dodging through the legs of the spectators, and the screams and exultant shouts coming from within the gates themselves.

I could not help the smile that lifted my lips as they clamored to enter and indulge in everything that they could lay their hands and eyes on, pulling on my and Sakura's hands excitedly and seemingly not knowing which way to go first once I had paid our way beyond the entrance, so Sakura and I each suggested what we thought the children would enjoy most and made our way to what they thought would be the most fun, my friend's eyes moving over to me and giving me a solemn glare over the fact that I had just paid for her ticket.

My only response was a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk, confident in her forthcoming acquiescence to the action.

I had taken my desire to replace her old, discarded belongings a step farther than I had intended, as I tended to do when dealing with my love; while I did as I had considered and slowly but surely purchased back the objects she had so easily discarded (though they were of significantly better make and quality; no one had ever said they had to be the same or that I could not spoil her), I also had acquired a strange compulsion to deny her the option of buying absolutely anything with her own money, at least when I could have any say in the subject.

It gave me great pleasure to thwart her when she was attempting to buy something by snatching her purse from her, holding it out of her reach (not a difficulty, due to the difference in our statures), and proceeding to pay for whatever she had wanted with my own money, no matter whether it was a pack of pens, a DVD, or even a whole new wardrobe.

I could not claim to not know why I liked to do such a thing, even though she more often than not became angry with me over my actions; it was true that I was her caretaker and as such should make sure she had everything she wanted or needed, but I craved the pleasure I gained when I saw her using something I had bought with my own money, to see her wearing the blouse I had paid for or to observe as she read from a book I had purchased.

It gave me a sense of ownership, though I had no right to the feeling and it was just that; a sentiment.

This behavior was scolded many times, never as easily accepted as some of my other actions, but I had no mind to desist when it gave me such great happiness to dote on her as fully as I did with my sons, and as such I had no shame in purchasing anything and everything that she attempted to get for herself this night, adding her wants to the list that I received from both of my children as the evening wore on.

We spent many pleasant hours in each other's company, taking joy in the games and attractions that surrounded us. I paid close attention to my sons, making sure they both enjoyed themselves and got everything that they wanted, but I also kept a close eye on Sakura's contentment. She had an almost constant (and very flattering) blush on her cheeks this evening, a color I attributed to the coolness of the night and not from my close presence beside her, and she had no problem talking with me as I pressed conversation on her or to meet my eye when I looked over at her.

She seemed cheerful enough, though I myself would have been more contented to be able to reach the few inches between our gloved fingertips and take her hand in mine, but I took my solace in that matter with the chance occurrences that happened upon us.

After we had spent a good fifteen minutes watching a large, burly, bearded man cut his way through a block of ice twice his size with a chainsaw, revealing a very detailed representation of the patron saint of the season, we made our way to one of the vendors and purchased hot drinks for each of us, though Sakura protested against being provided for again and refused to get a drink if I didn't let her pay for it.

This conversation had been held in whispered privacy between the two of us, so the lady at the counter didn't know that Sakura had already refused to get a drink since I just as resolutely refused to let her buy it herself, and asked me, in reference to the pouting woman at my side, if my wife would like anything as well.

This shocked Sakura so badly that she had been reduced to a stammering stupor, choking on the water she had just sipped out of the bottle she had brought with her.

I would have understood why should would have been offended by the assumption, even if I was incredibly pleased by the consideration of having her as my wedded partner, but she was not insulted. She was not even saddened; if I had not done my best to pretend that I had not seen it in her eyes, I would have named the emotion in her gaze as I handed her a steaming cup of hot chocolate (I had handily used her repose to connivingly purchase her a drink despite her resistance, making sure to quietly mutter to the confused vendor that my _wife_ would be fine) _longing_.

I need not explain why I tried to discourage this thought.

She retained quite the flush following the encounter, however, catching my attention over and over again despite the attempts I made to concentrate on other matters (like forcedly beating away the fantasies I had let spring to mind of Sakura in her beautiful white wedding dress, though she would be wearing it for me and not another man, as she joined hands with me in holy matrimony), and she seemed to only grow more embarrassed whenever I looked over at her following the occurrence. I was amused by this, though I did my best not to show it, and allowed Sakura the time that she needed to recover from the abrupt assumption.

In addition to being mistaken for my spouse, Sakura also, unluckily, managed to discover a slick stretch of sidewalk as we were walking towards a miniature roller coaster that Kenji had expressed an interest in, stepping onto it without noticing the sheen of the ground in front of her and thereafter sliding across it with ungainly attempts to right herself, arms waving about hysterically while she cried out in surprised panic.

I quickly gauged where she would come to a rest and darted around the edge of the ice slick so that I could arrest her fall, catching her just as she was about to tumble to the ground, and instantly looked her over with worry, asking if she had been injured with tight worry layering my tone.

All that I got in response was stunned silence, Sakura's jaw gaping open as she stared wide eyed through the half a foot separating our faces while I held her against my chest.

Though she had an astounding recovery following her silent perusal of our situation, jumping from my arms and informing me that she was perfectly fine in an unnecessarily verbose manner, I was not fooled by the front that she had put on; even though I tried to resist paying too much attention to her expression, I knew what she had been thinking while staring up at me so rapturously…

Her eyes had betrayed her; she found me attractive.

As much as I wished to confront her over this most welcome news, I could think of no way that I could bring it up and at the same time neglect mentioning the true depth of my own feelings, and as such let her think that I had let the moment pass into obscurity, spending the rest of the evening deliberately avoiding Sakura's gaze so I would not be tempted to say something that I would regret later. Only when it was ten thirty, the park almost deserted by people with young children, did I finally mention that it would be a good idea to head home, as both of my sons were asleep.

We spent most of the walk back to Sakura's car in companionable silence, though the quiet felt tense and volatile to me; I wanted so badly to find out why she had been looking at me as she had. She could not hide her feelings, not now that I had seen them, but I was greatly reluctant to start something that I could not finish. What if she enforced a point of her own by bringing up my dubious attentions? What would I do? How could I react to such a thing?

I did not know.

I was unused to feeling so confused, and as such it took far too long for me to find some way to strike up a time passing conversation that was perfectly innocent. I just couldn't seem to get my mind to cooperate, with how surprised I was by the sudden revelation that Sakura thought me striking. It was possible that I was mistaken, but now that I thought on it, it seemed far too obvious. The past few months that I had spent getting close to her once more had been rife with occasions that showcased her interest in me, overflowing with evidence to her growing interest.

Even when I had thought I had been watching carefully, I had been blind.

The easy topic I chose should not have been something that took a great deal of time to devise, but with the desire to query after her interests in me clamoring for recognition, I hardly dared to open my mouth more than necessary. It took a great deal of courage to even say what I did, and if I had known how that conversation would have ended…

I'm afraid that I never would have said a word.

We were about a block away from Sakura's car when I finally gathered my resolve, each of us bearing the weight of one of my slumbering children as the light from the waning half-moon shone down to light our footsteps through the light frost that had settled over the walkway. Shards of broken light shone across the woman beside me's cheeks and lit her eyes into brilliance, her happiness still in place despite the ending of our nightly activity, and I dared not look at her while I found my voice; she was simply too stunning under the light of the moon and I am sure I would have done something that I would regret.

"Did you enjoy yourself tonight, Sakura?" I asked carefully as I adjusted Kenji's legs under my arms, his position on my back more secure for the change, and focused my gaze on the sidewalk in front of me when I felt Sakura's eyes move over to me from her position beside me, more than aware of her attention and wondering silently how she looked at me when I wasn't watching. Would there be longing in her eyes? Did she wish for my touch, did she admire my visage? Did she bite at her lip as she tends to do when she is nervous or shy, did she watch my every movement and hope that one day, I would acknowledge her?

Would there be the love I felt for her within her gaze if I turned to see?

"Yes, I did. I haven't been to one of these things since I was a kid myself… thank you for letting me come with you," she muttered, the boy nestled in her arms making a soft sound of contentment as he snuggled closer to her body, and I almost smiled before I realized the weight of what she had said, furrowing my eyebrows and turning my head to look at her (she barely avoided my eyes, averting her own at the last moment).

_Let_ her? How could she think that it had been any conscious choice to bring her with me? She was half of the reason why I had arranged the outing in the first place; I had listened in on a conversation she had had with Kenji about the festival, reminiscing on the days of her youth when she had gone with a longing tenor to her voice, and I had taken note of it immediately. How could she possibly imagine that it was a hardship to include her when she was every single bit a member of my immediate family? If she only knew how close I truly wished to have her…

She did not know, of course, but that did not excuse her from the knowledge of being my closest friend. I had _never_ begrudged her going anywhere or doing anything with me, even before she had lived in my home. Often, I pressed the matter myself, insisting that she come with me and my children regardless of our destination. I could not understand her state of mind. Surely she knew that she belonged here with me and my sons.

Curious and slightly offended that I needed to ask, I inquired after her statement. "What do you mean, "let you"? You're part of our family, Sakura. You have been for years, and you know that you are more than welcome anywhere that my children and I go. I don't remember you having a problem recalling that a year ago… nothing has changed between us. You're still my friend, even though Sasuke passed on. He might have introduced us, but he wasn't the reason why I forged the relationship that we have," I stated slowly and pointedly, though I put as little emphasis on the last sentence I uttered as I could (I had no desire to reveal the real reason for befriending her anytime soon, and if she was being astute, she could turn the discussion around by asking after what I had said) before slowing my steps minutely, softening my tone for the last part of my questioning so that she wouldn't be too affronted by it.

"Why is it that you seem to have forgotten that?"

Her entire frame flinched at my accusation, though she did not react beyond staidly keeping her eyes downcast and biting at her lower lip.

"I'm sorry," she muttered in apology, her fingers tightening on Roku's back as she cradled the boy closer to herself. "I hadn't thought that it would be a problem to act differently since our common ground had been removed. What time are we waking up to open presents tomorrow?" she finished quickly, the distraction obvious in her excuse, and I would have allowed it had it not been for the undertone in her voice.

Upon first hearing her reasoning, I had thought she was referring to the loss of Sasuke. That would have been understandable, and I could have accepted her reluctance on the subject as compulsory. This was not the case, however, as I read into the layered differences between her justification and her attempted diversion; she was hiding behind more than her loss. She was fearful of something, most likely my discovering the true meaning of her words, and it had nothing to do with my brother.

It was for this reason that my eyes narrowed and my jaw clenched, rage boiling to life in my stomach.

She was veiling the truth of her discrepancy from me, and I would not allow it. This was more than just her private thoughts; this had to do with me, with the relationship between us, and the potential that it held to answer all of my unasked questions set me on edge. She was withholding my prospective happiness, the acknowledgement of my greatest desires, entirely selfishly.

How _dare_ she be so cruel.

"Do not attempt to change the subject after saying such a thing, Sakura. You should know better than to believe that such a tactic would work on me," I snapped coldly, allowing no room for doubt over what had angered me so badly despite the fact that I was sure that she knew (her face had paled the instant she saw my face expression fall into ire) as I stopped abruptly beside the back door of her car, jerking it open once I had pressed the unlock button on Sakura's keys but placing my son inside carefully with mindful and gentle hands.

I watched from the corner of my eyes as Sakura mirrored my motions, rounding the backside of the vehicle to put Roku in his seat, but acknowledged her nervousness as she did so, her hands shaking and her throat tightening visibly as she tried to swallow past her fear. I was never happy when she showed her obvious displeasure with my fury, disturbed that I intimidated the woman that I loved so easily, but as was the case in most of our disagreements, I had no mind to care about such things as her contentment at the moment.

I was focused entirely on discovering her hidden meaning and doing my damnedest to keep from falling prey to her unconscious seduction while in my enraged state.

Luckily she had not reacted with equal emotion as of yet, so I had no fear of suffering from my more animalistic side anytime soon, and as such proceeded with as little caution as I would ever allow while in the presence of my children and my love, slamming doors and grumbling under my breath while storming over to the driver's side of the car and slamming into that as well, perfectly cognizant of Sakura's tight posture in the seat beside mine while she awaited my judgment.

I started the car and put into drive with precise but jerky movements, fingers wrapped tightly around the wheel as I guided the small car into the late night traffic that would lead back to our shared home, before giving voice to one of the many thousand thoughts wheeling in my head, my tone clipped and harsh in impatience and furious displeasure.

"Now, explain your answer. Do _not_ try to change the subject again," I commanded forcefully, though I kept my volume low so as to not awaken my sons, and Sakura's shoulders slumped, a shiver shaking her hair where it veiled her gaze from the glances I was able to throw her when not occupied with my driving.

"I didn't mean to say that. I just spoke without thinking…" she claimed softly, her fingers twisting in her lap fretfully, but I could practically taste the lie in her words and bristled even further, growling and slamming a fist into the steering wheel I was clutching in a rare show of violence that stunned even myself. I had allowed her to lie to me for months without reproach, letting her speak untruths while pretending not to notice them, but no longer.

This was far too important.

"How many times have I told you that it is futile to lie to me?" I snarled beneath my breath, deliberately ignoring the flinch that shook Sakura's frame at my display of anger as I made a quick turn down a disused street, speeding unnecessarily down the shadowy road so that the trip back to where I could fully unload my wrath on the woman would be all the quicker. I could not allow myself to care about her feelings right now; she was playing with my heart, even if she did not know it, and I did not appreciate the game.

"I… I-I'm sorry…" she whimpered, stumbling over her words while tears saturated her tone, and I forced a sarcastic sigh past my lips, firming my gaze out the front window and my grip on the wheel so I wouldn't give in to the temptation to look over and see if she was crying, to reach out to comfort her. I had to remain as I was for the moment; no weakness could be shown or she would take advantage of it.

I could not pity her.

"I don't want to hear your apologies, Sakura; I have no desire to listen to you make excuses so that you can try to avoid a fight. Explain yourself _now_," I demanded harshly and unrelentingly, glaring over at Sakura as I paused at a red light shortly, and she shrank down in her seat to avoid my heated stare, regret clear in her gaze as she looked intensely at her knees. What was she lamenting? That she was here with me? That she had resisted me in the first place? That she had said anything like she had at all?

It was infuriating, not to know her thoughts.

She slowly came up with her answer as the light before me turned green and the last car at the intersection made its turn before me, allowing me to proceed across the intersecting street.

"I… look, Itachi, I just… I can't… I just thought that it would be what you wanted," she explained haltingly, seemingly on the verge of breaking down due to my distemper, and my teeth ground together painfully hard, my spine snapping straight and my knuckles turning white from the pressure I applied to them.

Her excuse gave me no relief; it was barely even an answer. She was offering me up the easiest way that she could get out of this disagreement, by humoring what she thought were my desires. She was wrong, of course, but that was not what drove me to new heights of sentiment; she had given me another clue. What I would have wanted… could she possibly be referring to the emotion I had seen in her eyes earlier? Did she think that I would reject her because I thought her below my regard, lesser than my expectations for a woman that could stand equally by my side? Another foundless suspicion…

Another unanswered question.

My foot slammed down on the brakes abruptly and firmly, ire for Sakura's constant and mysterious excuses boiling beneath my skin and seething from my every pore. I would not accept her easy dismissal of me this time; I would discover her hidden feelings whether she wanted me to or not.

"What I wanted? _What_ _I_ _**wanted**_? Why would I _want_ one of my friends to distance themselves from me because of something that happened outside of my control?" I growled acerbically, glaring over at her and ignoring the angry car behind me that started honking their horn at me.

Sakura knew well enough to tell that this was a rhetorical question, keeping her silence from her slumped down position beside me while waiting for me to continue to real questioning. This calmed me somewhat, though definitively not enough; it always gratified me that she knew me so well that she could predict the intricacies of the workings of my mind, at least regarding things she was aware of. Slightly less angered than before, but most certainly just as determined to find out what she had meant, I went on.

"I've always thought you fairly intelligent, but that comment was completely and utterly idiotic. I can come to only one conclusion from what I know you are not, and you are not an imbecile. So tell me; why are you hiding your real reason for that comment behind flimsy falsehoods that don't have a chance of fooling me?" I questioned severely, restarting the movement of the car now that I was more in control of myself and making the turn into the parking garage of my apartment complex, though I kept an eye on Sakura's reactions through the heavy breaths I was forced to take.

She flinched at my apparently correct assumption, her fingers tightening even more in her lap and her mouth thinning into a pained line. I had struck a nerve with my query, apparently, somewhere close to the location of what she was truly feeling, and I pressed on with another supposition, pulling to a stop in her parking spot and switching off the car before turning fully to her, looking at Sakura with forcedly unforgiving detachment in my gaze.

"Is there something that you are hiding that I need to know?"

Sakura's whole body froze, her eyes locking on the dashboard in front of her in blind panic, before she scrambled to extract herself from the car and get my youngest (and still miraculously asleep; I had lost control of the volume of my voice as my anger had grown and had been afraid of waking either of my boys but had been unable to temper my tone in my state) son out as well.

I could easily guess at her motive for this; she knew well my municipal decorum and my desire to look as respectable as possible in public, and as such discerned that I would not continue our fight during the trip up to the top of the building.

She was right in her hoping, naturally. I had no wish to make anyone else a part of our disagreement, desiring it to be kept solely between me and her like it should be. Besides, if we came to the conclusion that I was hoping for (Sakura finally breaking down beneath my questioning and confessing her love for me), I would want none but myself to be privy to the outcome that I would appropriate (finally taking the confounded girl to my bed to make love to her all the night long).

As such, I allowed her the time that she obviously needed to gather her thoughts and her plans back together and merely withdrew from her vehicle as well, picking Kenji up from the backseat and walking silently beside my companion back into the building. I did not, however, let her think that my anger had lessened any and made sure that my stirred emotions projected all too clearly while we walked across the nearly deserted lobby (the damnable doorman gave my expression and Sakura's humbled posture one glance before obviously deciding that this was none of his business).

I all but snarled at her to get on the elevator with me when the recalled machine had opened its doors, noticing her wistful glance at the stairs and her obvious hope of escaping me for even those few minutes that it would take for her to ascend the building. I did not have an ulterior motive for demanding her presence beside me besides to thwart her desires in the beginning, but as she stepped cautiously into the elevator I was awakened, with savage pleasure, to the fact that if no one else boarded the device, I would be able to continue our disparity.

The hope for such an occurrence was great, but also predetermined to fail; just as the doors were sliding closed a completely drunk man stumbled seemingly from thin air and stuck his hand out to arrest the closing ingresses, thereafter entering and smiling contentedly at the two of us like we had known each other all our lives.

Thankfully the fool did not speak to us; I do not think I could have restrained myself from being unkind or even blatantly derisive to him in that moment. He did, however, make himself at home by laying on the floor and using my shoes as a sort of pillow, and this did nothing to improve my mood. Under any normal circumstance I think that Sakura would have laughed at my misfortune, tickled by my patiently annoyed expression, and I would have been drawn to join in with her after I attempted to retain my pride for a few moments.

I was more than a little discontented that she merely lost more color to her cheeks as my ire grew by the second, her shoulders visibly shaking while she cowered against the wall farthest from me.

The silence extended over when the two of us finally reached the top of the building and exited the elevator (the drunken man had obviously fallen asleep and did not get off on any of the floors previous, even the one he had pressed the button for), strained quiet stretching between the two of us while we carried our burdens to their respective beds.

I could tell just from looking at her that Sakura had devised a plan to escape the rest of the fight when I glanced at her after I had kissed my youngest son good night and had begun to walk back down the stairs to Kenji's room; she obviously intended on using the fact that I still had to put my other son to bed to either pretend that she had forgotten that we were fighting or to lock herself in her room and hope that I would not still be so angry that I would disturb her "sleep".

I was not impressed by this and made sure to let her know that I was aware of her plot before she could complete it, quickly putting Kenji to bed before striding expeditiously to the living room and glaring harshly at the head of the stairs, where Sakura was surely sneaking towards her bedroom just out of my line of sight.

"Sakura… come downstairs," I called softly but domineeringly, sure that she had heard me as the rest of the house was quiet and she was surely listening for any clue of my approach.

I was proven correct when she appeared at the top of the staircase and descended with obvious reluctance in her every movement, her eyes on the toes of her feet as she walked slowly down the expanse of stairs. I widened my stance and folded my arms where I stood in the center of my living room, a tactic that I had found gave me a whole new level of intimidation, and glared down my nose scornfully at the woman that stopped a few paces away from me.

Much to my dissatisfaction, she met my gaze with a glower of her own, her normally soft and caring eyes hard and flashing. The appearance of her brand of anger was not welcome and I looked on the rest of the fight we were having with discomfort; I could more than likely look forward to another long night of restless and unanswered desire after forcing myself to keep my hands to myself, refusing to allow myself to think that it would be alright if I seized the woman and pulled her into my embrace to kiss her more passionately than she had ever been kissed and to claim her body so roughly and completely that no man would ever doubt my ownership of her.

How I hated the inevitability of the endings of our disagreements… how I wished that I could manage to not resort to lecherous fantasies while in her angered presence.

At the moment (thankfully), I had nothing but the faint stirrings of interest in my body, the barest hint of attraction to the only person who ever dared to defy me so completely, and I easily ignored the pull by narrowing my gaze even further before speaking.

"You haven't answered me," I derided bluntly, starting up the conversation where I had let her end it, and Sakura scoffed at me with a roll of her eyes, tossing a hand in the air and lifting her chin pridefully.

These were all the indications that I needed to guesstimate that she was about to give me an answer so venomous that a lesser man would melt beneath.

"Just noticed that, did you? Good job; I thought I might have fooled the _great_ Itachi Uchiha," she snapped cynically, sneering and unaffected by her mocking of me, and my throat tightened as my anger (and my libido) multiplied.

She dared too much, pushing too far too early in our discordance… she had no idea what she did to me, what I was imagining _doing_ to her in reciprocation to her taunting. How easy it would be to take her by the arm and throw her down on the couch she stood before, thereafter moving to cover her body with mine and silencing her poisonous tongue with my own…

I shook myself inwardly to discourage my line of thinking, outwardly lifting my lip over my canines and growling passionately. I could not afford to take such risks as indulging my innermost desires, even enough to think of them in the girl's presence; it would be detrimental not only to my attempts to discover Sakura's real meaning (it is a well-known fact that, unfortunately, males are limited to using either their brain or their more favored appendage at any one given time; there just isn't enough blood in the body to support both in the same instance) but also to the friendship I had worked so fervently to reestablish.

She would not wish for such attentions from me when she was still in mourning, even if she was attracted to me on some level.

At least somewhat firm in my determination to resist my desires this night, I took a menacing step forward so that my and Sakura's differing heights would be highlighted, glaring down on her slightly widened eyes furiously.

"Your sarcasm isn't appreciated, and neither is it necessary. There is no need to be nasty; just answer the question and I will be appeased," I muttered poignantly, and she snorted scathingly, taking an obviously nervous step back so that she wouldn't be so heavily held beneath my apparently successful intimidation.

"I don't live my life to please you, Itachi," she snarled, looking me up and down as if disgusted by my daring, but the slight tremble in her tone alerted me to her utterance of a falsehood. She had never been a good liar, too guilty over not telling the truth to allow herself to be proficient, and while I was grateful for the ease with which I could tell the difference between her verities and her deceptions, I was taken aback by the fact that her claim was false.

If I could make any assumptions from her assertion, then she felt the exact opposite of her words; she _did_ live her life to please me. She wanted nothing more, in this moment, than to give me what I wished and to have my praise of her. She didn't wish to fight with me, she didn't want to displease me… she cared about what I thought of her.

This revelation, though it was only a contemplation and had no real factual basis, stunned me. Added to what I had already gathered from her earlier actions, I could come to only one conclusion, a thought process that gave me so much hope and elation that I felt like crying; she was in love with me.

My first inclination was to dismiss the thought. She had no reason to have fallen for me, she had never shown any real interest in anyone besides my brother. I was finally losing it, trying to put what I felt myself into reciprocated feelings that never had a real hope of being returned, not through this woman. But, I reminded myself, she _had_ shown interest.

The way she had looked at me this evening as I held her close to me, the shy blushes as I paid her a compliment, the closeness that she allowed me to hold between us that had never been so tight before, the fact that she was hiding how she felt over something that had to do with our relationship… it was possible that she did feel something so strong and was merely too shy to say anything, too afraid of how I would react to her wishing for my attention in a romantic manner.

The more that I thought on the subject, the more likely it seemed. We had been the closest of friends for many years, we shared everything with each other on principal (though we each had our own secrets, obviously), we lived together in close quarters… many others required much less pressure to fall in love. I myself was already taken by the emotion, of course, lost to my love for the girl inescapably, but to think that she could feel the same…

Perhaps I could now give a name to the look that she gained while staring at me, while I was doing something for her or when she thought I wasn't watching.

Could it really be possible that she had fallen for me? I did not know, and I wasn't sure, at the moment, whether or not it would be a good thing for her to feel so strongly for me. Of course I _wanted_ her to… my love for her was undeniable and unrestrained, and the vision of having her speak the fated words to me made my heart swell with overpowering emotion. But this was not all that I desired, and I saw nothing in her that reflected anything of equal regard.

You could love someone without lusting for them, after all.

I had never seen the echo of desire within her gaze while she looked at me, as I surely possessed when I watched her. It was entirely plausible that she had never even considered coming to my bed as I had thought of taking her to it the many thousands of times that I had; I had never been so foolish as to inquire after her sexual potency from my brother, knowing the question would be something that a platonic brother in law would never ask, so I had no reference for how interested in the act that she was.

There was always potential for such a thing to grow into being, of course, but I did not dare to hope for it, and reluctantly stayed the hopeful clamoring in my chest. I would focus only on her potential love and have that simply be enough for the moment.

In was drawn from my introversion by Sakura suddenly turning her back on me haughtily, obviously intending to walk away from a fight that she deemed unworthy of her time, but I would not yet allow her to escape. She had not yet revealed her reasoning, and I _would_ know by the night's end. I had to. As such, I shifted my body into bristling offence, fists clenching and eyes intensifying.

"Don't walk away from _me_, Sakura!" I all but shouted, taking a step after her but declining myself the release of reaching out to halt her escape, and her shoulders tightened before she turned her head to glare over her shoulder at me, her eyes flickering fearfully for a moment (possibly regarding the fury I bore on my visage) before she regained her passion. Lip curling into a defiant leer, she snorted at me in a brave show of denial.

"You are not my master, to dictate what I can and can't do. Neither are you my husband, for me to be obligated to answer you in all your meaningless and stupid queries," she snapped before turning back to making her way away from me, and I almost flinched at the cruelty of her response.

She didn't know that I wanted what she had disclaimed me of, naturally; she had no idea that to be her husband was my greatest desire, beyond that of having her beneath me as I rode us both to the brink of passionate oblivion.

No, she didn't know, but being reminded of the impossibility of my wants by the very person I wanted them with hurt more than I can explain.

Unfortunately, the pain that I suffered from her blatant jab at my heart was nearly immediately replaced by cataclysmic vehemence. How dare she assume to tell what I could or could not do… she was brazenly offering me my hopes and dreams and yet withholding them, she was insulting me and turning aside my affections with an uncaring hand, she was taking advantage of my leniency by flouting her disobedience, and I would not let her think that I would accept that sort of treatment, from her least of all.

I might not be her _master_, but I _was_ her brother and friend, and she would not be allowed to treat me this way.

My instant response was to stalk around her and stand in her path, my hands clenched at my sides and my teeth clenched caustically while I glared down at the suddenly fearful looking woman before me. Caught up in my anger as I was, I did not care that she cowered away from me slightly before obviously remembering that she was supposed to be firm and put her hands on her hips, meeting my scowl with her own frown; I only crowed with pleasure that I was the better of the two of us at the moment, taking distinct inclination to the fact that I was scaring her with the full brunt of my anger.

She should be afraid; I was not a man to be trifled with.

Confident in my own threatening presence, I let my glare grow to a full blown glower, my lip curling and a growl rumbling in my chest in response to her attempt to seem strong. "Be that as it may, you live in my house and if you want to continue to do so, you'd better answer the _goddamn_ question," I threatened, speaking without considering my words, and immediately regretted it when Sakura's eyes widened in frightened alarm.

What the _hell _was I doing?

I quickly forced my anger to cool as Sakura fought to regain a secure foothold in response to my bluff (for that was what it was, nothing more; I would never have asked her, much less forced her, to leave my home), fighting to regain control of myself and my tongue. I honestly could not believe myself; had I really been taking pleasure in Sakura's fear? Had I just told her that I would make her leave if she didn't tell me how she really felt? What was wrong with me? When had I become a monster of such caliber? This needed to stop…

But I couldn't let it. Not yet. As much as I wanted to escape while I still had my control, and my non-aroused mind, I _had_ to know. I would just have to suffer the repercussions of my words first.

While I was finding grounding within my own mind, trying to return to the man that I truly was, Sakura had regained her bravery and raised a skeptical eyebrow in response to my warning, folding her arms across her chest and sticking a hip out to the side (I paid as little attention as I could to the motion, averting my eyes to the expanse of wall behind her instead).

"Is that an _ultimatum_, Itachi? Give in or leave? Because if it is, then I'll be out by sunrise. Is that what you want?" she asked with a scathing bite to her tone, though I could still hear the fear in her voice as she spoke, and I put on a show of wanting to say something that I didn't want to while bringing my eyes down to the ground, popping my jaw and clenching my fists tightly.

She would not know that I had already calmed down considerably if I did so, ensuring that she would not take advantage of my calmer state by making her successful escape, and I would, potentially, find my answer when she tired before I did.

I glared at the floor beside my feet for an appropriate amount of time before answering her, forcing tension into my tone so it would be more convincing. "No… no, I don't want you leave. I just want to get along with you every once in a while. Bickering with you over nonsensical subjects doesn't lead anywhere, and I would prefer to reach an understanding rather than argue for hours with neither of us gaining any ground," I explained, keeping my eyes on the floor as I did so.

I could almost feel the tension in the air lessen at my near apology, Sakura's posture loosening as my anger obviously, to her eyes, degraded to a manageable level, but I was not finished. I had to let her know that I wasn't about to give up, and that the only way that this was going to end was if she admitted her feelings.

Putting on a front of coldness, I finally looked up from the floor to meet her eyes, a fine tremor of panic shaking her as she realized that I was not as calm as she had assumed that I was. "But for that to happen, one of us has to give… and I'm not moving," I muttered significantly, and the color that had come to her cheeks during our discrepancy drained as she met my gaze.

It took her a few moment to rally, during which I barely held back a smirk at my close handed victory, but when she did she rolled her eyes, a motion that she knew I detested, and gave me a close lipped, sarcastic smile while lifting a hand and flipping me off.

"Well I've got news for you, buddy: I'm not either. So you can stick it where the sun don't shine if you don't like it, because I'm not answering the question and there isn't anything you can do to make me, jackass," she returned uncaringly, stepping to the side and trying to edge around me like this was the final word to be had, but little to her knowledge was the fact that as soon as she had silently told me to fuck off, I had lost myself.

She had reduced me to an animal, a raging beast interested only in rutting and in taking my vengeance for her cruel words, and every syllable that she uttered after her dismissal only made me more determined to have her.

It is impossible to describe how close I came to pouncing on her. The pull of attraction and unanswered lust had been nagging at me since she had met my glare with her own, but now I had no control over my libido. It seemed an unfeasibility that she didn't notice how my hands shook, or how the glint in my eye had become not angry, but _hungry_, an undeniable craving for her bare flesh against mine and for her cries of passion and pleas for mercy from my relentless lovemaking resounding in my ears.

_Oh_ yes; she would cry out for mercy. I would not be gentle when I took her as my own, and my name would be the only one that fell from her lips while we joined over and _over_ and _**over**_.

How gratifying it would be to finally taste her. Gods, I could just imagine her flavor; she would remain redolent of the chocolate she had drunk earlier, of the mint of the candy canes she had consumed (I had watched her sucking the candy with jealous approval all the night long, my mind replacing each and every stick with my much neglected manhood with greedy pleasure) and of the cinnamon of her toothpaste.

She would have her own unique taste as well, of course; it was this that I wondered at. Would she have the flavor of the fruit that she loved so dearly, the tang of cherries and strawberries smeared across her lips enticingly? Mere consideration would never be enough.

I wanted her so badly, so completely, that I could hardly keep my hands away from her. I wanted too much to reach out to her, to grab on to her and show her how much I desired her by grinding her body against my fully awakened arousal. She would not be disappointed by me, I was sure of this, and I was convinced that sex with this infuriating and perfect woman would be beyond anything I had ever experienced.

Even lost to my desires as I was, I was still a gentleman. I would offer her a warning before taking her, an opportunity to say no or to inform me that she wasn't ready. I was firm in belief that willingness was crucial for any sexual experience, and even though I was growing in my assurance that she, indeed, was in love with me, I was still blind to how she felt for me physically.

I would find out first.

As such, I leaned down to meet Sakura's defiant gaze (let's see how long she could remain that way once she was naked beneath me), my own gaze passionate and seething with my desire. "I don't care for your attitude, Sakura… and I will not stand to be insulted by you," I said quietly in warning, remembering just in time that she was not privy to the direction of my thoughts and that I could not ask whether she wanted to come to my bed or not directly, my tone and words both daring her to continue.

Her reaction to the claim would be my answer, and it would serve well enough in my mind. If I saw even the barest hint of desire, even a flicker of interest beyond her care for me, I would take her.

The sarcastic laugh that emitted from her took me by surprise, making me lean back slightly so I could examine her more closely. I was unprepared for the contest in her eyes and the daring posture that she assumed as she laughed at me, though her answer took me back even further. "Oh yeah? Then do something about it," was the reply that she made, her stance firm and unmoving, and I almost lost it.

She had issued a challenge, one begging to be taken advantage of, and she obviously expected me to back down. Her assumption demanded recompense, and the animal raging inside of me commanded that I make my move. She had shown herself to be a worthy mate, standing up to me bravely where others would have retreated, and as such it was my duty to claim her.

The only difficulty that I found with that, the one thing that kept me from closing the distance between us and crushing my lips to hers, was the absence of what I had been looking for. The only things that I read in her gaze were her defiance, her fear of my potential anger, and the thing that I still hesitated to call love. I had been hoping to see lust, but was determined to be thwarted.

There was _none_.

The disappointment I felt was almost tangible, a bitter and unwelcome flavor that I was all too familiar with. I had been desirous of her before (though not to such a close extent), and had been denied the warmth of her touch and the satisfaction of her body more than once. Unfortunately, my rational mind was not with me this night, and my rampant libido was not contented with the denial I saw in her eyes, resolutely demanding that I move forward anyway. She would warm to the act when she realized how virile a partner I was, when she saw how much I desired her, and would _become_ willing.

Much to my eternal shame, I was almost convinced by this invidious argument. I almost took that step, almost reached out, almost made the decision that would have ruined everything, but I did not. I retained the barest hold on my desires that I was able, but realized, as I struggled with myself, that this was not something that was going to dissipate.

She would never be safe from my lascivious wants as long as she was so close to me, now that I had a growing assurance of her love. She would be the one to suffer for my loss of control, my inability to be stronger than my own cravings, and I would not allow it. As much as I lusted for her, I loved her more, and for her own good… I would push her away.

But how?

My attempts earlier in the year, though those had been only to protect myself and not her, had failed incredibly drastically. I would not be able to approach the situation in such a manner again. No, I had to find a way to hide my lust from her and yet keep her as happy as I could while doing it. Had I not managed such a thing before? I had, but things had been different then. She had been with my brother, she had not been in love with me, but most notably of all, she had been…

A child.

My eyes widened so minutely that I was sure Sakura didn't even notice, the memory of how I had so easily resisted her all those years ago coming to me in a flash. Yes, appropriating such a thing would be shameful not only to Sakura, but to me as well; I had no desire to treat someone I saw as an equal so lowly. She deserved her place of equivalent standing beside me, and to lower her would be an affront to everything that I stood for. I was sure of the success of my maneuver, however, and as such made the firm decision to press on with its application. It would be difficult, pretending so thoroughly…

But I had seen her as a child before and resisted her; why could I not do so again?

With such a coup came the duty to act as the adult in the situation, and with this I was the most concerned. She would not react well to being reprimanded as though she were half the age that she was, and I would not enjoy doing it.

To reinforce the image of her once again being out of my reach because of an age discrepancy required the actions, however, and with this reassurance from my reluctant mind, I narrowed my eyes once more and shot my hand out to wrap around Sakura's upper arm, recalling in my mind's eye how she had looked when she had been sixteen years old, hardly the woman that she was now and nowhere near as brave. If I could just remember that, and keep it in mind, this would succeed, and she would be able to recover and escape me before I forced myself on her.

I was no good for her, and it would do me some good to be reminded of that.

Forcing my mind back to the present, though keeping the image of her youth in my mind, I dragged her to my side and leaned down to whisper in her ear, willing the lust still rampaging through my veins away as best I could. "As you wish," I growled in her ear in response to the challenge she had offered only seconds before, and then proceeded to turn and stalk over to and up the stairs, dragging Sakura behind me despite her protests.

An explanation of my actions seemed in order, so I started speaking as I fought to tug her up the staircase, grip firming when she tried to rip her arm from my hand. "I am not a tolerant or forgiving man, Sakura. Your impetuous and foolish boldness on the subject of my morality deserves retribution, and since you insist on acting the part of a child, the only recourse I see is to indulge you. You are secluded to your room for the remainder of the night and, if this behavior continues, tomorrow as well," I told her as I finally succeeded in pulling her up onto the landing and over to her bedroom door, gritting my teeth over the distaste of punishing someone, especially a woman who was only a few years younger than me.

Discipline wasn't one of the things that I relished about being a parent, something that I doled out for only the most extreme of offenses, and even then I considered myself fairly lenient. I had only reprimanded my sons a number of times that numbered below twenty, and most of these punishments had been merely groundings or time outs; I would reluctantly admit to having physically reprimanded my eldest son once, however, and it had been with extreme regret, much thought, and painful disquiet that I had done so. Kenji had been young, perhaps three and a half years old at the most, when the hated retention occurred.

I had been at a shopping market, doing my family's customary grocery shopping previous to the occurrence (Alora refused to do it and I hated having maids shop for my food for me), and had thought that it would be a good experience to bring Kenji with me. I didn't often have time to spend with my son, and any moment that I could, I took advantage of.

We spent most of the time peacefully, his position in the shopping cart keeping him out of trouble for the most part, but when we had passed by the book aisle he had begged me to let him out so he could look at them, pleading with me until, I am ashamed to admit, I relented.

Pleasing my son was one of my greatest joys, especially when the boy was usually so taciturn.

I let him clamber out of the cart and peruse the novels to his heart's content, which turned out to be much longer than I had thought that it would be. Soon it was time that we moved on, and I told him so, but much to my surprise, consternation, and irritation, he told me no and that he wanted to stay.

This wouldn't have been enough to provoke me to such drastic actions as spanking him. No, it merely took me aback and caught my attention at the moment. Kenji held me in high regard, always listening when I told him to do something, so his rebellion set me at odds. I couldn't afford to let him challenge me, however, especially in such a fashion as direct disobedience, and had ordered him to my side, my voice purposefully firm and unrelenting.

It had astounded me even further that he had told me no a second time, not even looking away from the book that he held.

Still I had not been driven to even _thinking_ of striking my son. I was much more annoyed than I usually was, and the mother that happened to be in the same aisle as we were looked wary of the effect my son's insolence had on my countenance, but the most that I did was repeat my forceful request, demanding that Kenji come to my side _immediately_. Once again he refused, telling me that he just wanted to read a little more and then we would go.

I was not yet incited to laying my hands on him, but I was definitely angry, and my patience with his insubordination had all but vanished.

I could have compromised with him, sure. I could have allowed him the time asked for, given into my innermost desire to give the boy everything that he wanted, if it hadn't been for the fact that he had defied me not once, not twice, but _three_ times. I refused to allow him to think that he could command me or that it was okay for him to purposefully disregard my orders, and with measured movements I had jerked the book from his hands, replaced it on the shelf, picked my son up, and placed the surprised boy back in the cart.

I intended to merely have words with him when we returned home, so as not to embarrass him in public, but when he had thrown a tantrum in response to my not allowing him his way, at the same time throwing a glass bottle of salad dressing out of the cart to smash on the floor of the shopping center, I had lost my reasoning and my temper along with it.

He knew better than to act so impertinently, and I would not stand for his disrespect any longer.

Kenji knew, the moment that he had thrown the bottle at the floor, that he was in deeper trouble than he had ever been. I didn't say a word to him the whole rest of the trip, stewing in my anger over my son's actions and trying to think of any punishment other than what I was considering for him, and I could see in his eyes that he was frightened of how angry I was.

This did not make me feel any better about what I was going to have to do, but I did not let pity sway my judgment and the moment that I had stepped into my apartment I had set my shopping down, taken Kenji by the arm, and led him forcefully into my office.

He had never been subjected to anything like a spanking before, having only received time outs to temper an outburst or quell an offence (I was a firm believer in avoiding force if possible, sure that any situation could be overcome without it if one merely thought it through well enough), and he didn't understand why I had brought him into the room.

He had questioned it aloud, wondering at why I had closed the door and if I was still angry with him. I had been unsure of how to respond; I wasn't angry any longer, but I was resolute in my decision. He would not understand why I would be punishing him if I wasn't angry, but I also didn't want to lie and frighten him.

The experience would be traumatic enough without that.

As such, I had explained that I was upset with the way that he had behaved and while I was not angry, I still had to convey the fullness of what he had done. I told him that what he had done was very serious; that if he had been in danger and had not listened to me like he had, he could have been harmed. He had seen what I meant and had immediately apologized, and I hadn't questioned his sincerity.

I knew he meant it just by looking in his eyes.

It wasn't enough though, because as my father had told me on the occasions I had suffered the same treatment at his hand, sorry doesn't make a wrong right. We must accept the consequences of our actions, and reap them with as much grace as we could muster.

It had taken every ounce of my resolve to sit in the chair facing the empty fireplace and to beckon my confused son towards me, thereafter explaining as gently as I could that I still had to punish him. He had appeared understanding of the circumstances, but had still struggled as I had picked him up and bent him over my knee, nervously querying after what I was going to do.

I was glad that he hadn't known what I would be doing to him beforehand, because if his eyes had been fearful as he had looked up at me, I don't think I could have forced my hand to come down.

I did not count the stinging slaps I delivered to his backside, nor did I allow myself to acquiesce when he began to cry out for me to stop, promising that he was sorry and that he would never disrespect me again. I did not put much force behind the blows, as the intention of the chastisement did not lie behind pain inflicted but in acknowledgement of the wrong committed and the consequences that stemmed from each of our decisions (besides, the reality of having to punish in so cruel a manner caused me more pain than I would ever cause my son), but was nevertheless firm during the duration of the punishment.

I had stopped after I was satisfied that he understood the full brunt of his wrongdoing and had immediately lifted him up into my arms, hugging him and wishing for all the world that I could apologize. I knew that the tears beading in the corners of his eyes were not from hurt, though I am sure that his bottom was sore, but from embarrassment over his own actions and over having disappointed me so thoroughly that I had been forced to descend to violence, but I still blamed myself for each drop of the saline that had gathered on his eyelashes.

I detested the memory of having to do such a thing to my beloved son, even though I knew I had been in the right and had done the correct thing. It felt like our relationship had been tainted because of it, though I knew Kenji did not hold it against me and loved me with everything he had within him…

He never again called me daddy, after that incident; I became _father_, and I hated the formality of the word more than anything else.

I considered it a blessing that I had never been forced to do it again, and hoped to avoid the potential of having to punish Roku in the same manner at some point, but I must say that the reason that I didn't was because of the remembrance of the punishment in Kenji's mind.

While I crowed with pride over my son and his accomplishments, he was only a child, and he was not perfect or without fault. He still misbehaved at times, but his misdeeds were never even close to equaling his offence on the day I had spanked him. Just the knowledge of what the punishment was for certain levels of disobedience or unbecoming behavior made him shy away from even _thinking_ of going too far.

As much as I loathed the fear I had inspired in my own progeny, I counted on that acknowledgement with every cell in my body.

I had no idea if Sakura had ever suffered such a punishment. She seemed like she would have been a troublesome child, testing her foster parent's patience to a fault, but I did not know if they would have descended to physical chastisement. Surely she had been isolated to her room before, though, would understand the humiliation of being treated with such disrespect and know she was deserved better, and would give me the hate, and distance, that I needed her to give me.

I would become a monster of cruelty to her if it would keep her away.

At long last managing to drag my reluctant and loudly protesting captive to her bedroom door, I opened it one handed, switched the light on, and then slung the woman behind me within carefully, making sure she would have something to catch herself on if she started to fall by aiming her close to the foot of her bed.

Folding my arms firmly and smoothing my expression into aloofness (I was always adversely affected by her room; there were pictures of Sasuke hung and framed _everywhere_, and his printed eyes seemed accusing and angry at the moment, offended that I was thinking of and treating his beloved so tactlessly), I glared down unmercifully at Sakura as she caught herself exaggeratedly on the end of her bed.

"You are not to leave until I say so, and there will be _no_ arguments, or I will see fit to extend your punishment tenfold ," I said sullenly, putting forceful truthfulness into my words so she would not doubt my sincerity, and when she had straightened Sakura's mouth fell open in shock, her eyes narrowing into a glare, but her anger was not able to cover up how she truly felt; she was as scared by my threat as much as she was slighted that I would dare to claim a right to do so.

"You can't do that to me, Itachi! I'm twenty-two years old! I'm not a child anymore, and you have _no_ right…" she started to seethe, pointing a finger at me and attaining a tic in the corner of her eye as her fury over my handling became unbound, but I could not allow her the luxury of discovering the complete truth of her claim. Of course I had no right to punish her. Of course she was too old to suffer such treatment at my hands.

I could not see her as the adult that she was anymore, however; I would lose more than my control if I did… I would lose _her_, and I would not permit that.

I glared at her stonily, complete seriousness in my bearing and mien, and Sakura's protest dwindled into silence, her frame shrinking and her throat clenching as she swallowed heavily. I barely restrained a flinch at such behavior, ignoring my desire to reach out a hand to comfort her, and instead forced a cruel and appeased smirk onto my lips, setting my hand on her doorknob and giving her a stern and unforgiving look.

"You have shown that you do not deserve to be regarded as an adult, and as such I will treat you as I would an impertinent child. If you do not think that I would take you to task the same way I would a child who had disrespected me after being warned not to, then test your courage; try my patience once more. I am not above confiscating your possessions or refusing you privileges," I explained harshly, hoping to every god from every religion and every culture that she would not force me to do anything more than I was now, and she fell into stillness, her eyes flickering over mine repeatedly as if searching for the reason why I would suddenly act as I had been.

I erased all emotion but expectation of her negative answer and seriousness for my claim from my visage, allowing her no doubt of my gravity. We stared at each other in the near silence for an immeasurable amount of time; it might have been seconds, minutes, hours, or even days that we stood glaring at each other, judging one another by the look in the other's eyes and the brunt of what we each knew of the other.

As the time passed slowly, I began to worry that she would not be as easily fooled as she had been in the past. She knew me well; she would know that I was above such coldheartedness as I had offered. But perhaps she would think, inversely, that she no longer knew me as well as she once had and would assume the worst. I did not want this, but I counted on it, and the emotions I felt when she averted her gaze from mine in silent acquiescence and defeat were understandably conflicted, gratitude warring equally with dismay.

My discomfort over her submission was not allowed to show, of course; she had no reason to think of me as anything but a domineering bastard from this moment forward, and as such I smirked in satisfaction at her bowed head.

"Good girl. Now remember; you are not to leave your room until I tell you to, or there _will_ be consequences. Understood?" I crooned at her antagonistically, feigning superiority and heavy-handedness, and a heavy blush crept up her cheeks as she remained staring at the floor.

Watching its climb, I was suddenly and disturbingly reminded that this girl was a woman. How easily she blushed when faced with even the slightest of stimulation… would she faint from having too much blood rushing around her brain if I were to touch her? What if I kissed her? Would I have to catch her as she swooned?

It was an intriguing thought, one I had not considered much before, and I contemplated it without remorse while studying Sakura's tinted cheeks for more time than was allowable before recalling why we were in this situation in the first place, pushing my curiosity and my desire _back_.

I could no longer think of her as I had been… I was supposed to be viewing her as the child she had once been, and a man my age would not be able to look at a sixteen year old girl the way I was Sakura.

Shaking myself and forcing a vision of the nervous and shy young girl up in front of my eyes, I swallowed back the words that had sprung to my tongue in response to my ponderings and waited silently for her response, which I had yet to receive. I did not have to wait long; she gave me a curt nod, obviously wishing me to go away as soon as possible so that she could wallow in her embarrassment and anger over my actions, and with a quiet exhalation I acquiesced, backing out of the room and closing the door before me.

The short walk back to my own room was spent in aimless thought that is not worthy of mention, considerations of what I had just foisted on not only myself, but on Sakura as well, whirling in my head as I walked heavily to the door just beyond Sakura's own. Judging from my lapse in attention a few minutes previous, it was clear to me that my plan had many flaws in it, most notable of them the fact that Sakura was almost nothing like the child she had once been.

She had changed so drastically that I had few points of comparison.

I hoped with everything in myself however, as I pushed my door open, closed it behind me, and walked over to collapse onto the covers of my bed with the light left off, that I would be able to keep my greatest strength about me in this endeavor; deception was not a difficult feat, and it was only Sakura that I had to fool, and only for long enough for her to come to the realization that I was a feckless ingrate unworthy of her god sent regard.

She should not love me, though I hungered desperately for the reciprocation, and I would make her realize that.

As I listened to the sounds of the night, content to just lay staring at the barely visible ceiling for the moment, quiet slamming and virulent cursing could be heard from the bedroom beside mine, noises that I assumed were from Sakura getting ready for bed. It was more than obvious that she was throwing a tantrum, and if I were to be the upstanding adult that I was pretending to be I would have gone back to her room and punished her for her indiscretion, but instead I did something I did not even expect…

I started chuckling.

I cannot claim to understand why I found her fit of forcedly quiet temper to be so amusing. It may even seem ridiculous that I felt that way, to an outside party (even to an inside party). By all rights, I should have merely ignored the occurrence or gone to correct her. It was what I would have done with my sons, what any parent or guardian would have done. But as I lay listening to her growling to herself, discontented but still trying her best to not rouse me, I was suddenly struck by the sheer absurdity of the situation.

She was actually _afraid_ of my coming back to get her. She was angry, but wary of infuriating me again. And that, plus the fact that she actually thought I was capable of inflicting any of what I had threatened her with, made me laugh harder than I have in years.

* * *

The next morning, when I released Sakura from her forced imprisonment in her room to the enjoyment of my son (Kenji found it hilarious that I had put an adult into a time out), I could see in her eyes that she had planned some sort of vengeance for me.

As interested as I was in her frame of mind, and in what she could have cooked up that would be equal to the embarrassment I had brought upon her the night before, I was not at all in the mood for any sort of shenanigans (the night before had been spent entangled in dreams that I will never divulge out loud; know only that I was forced to take three showers during the few hours that I was within my room in response to the stimulation and that I was, in so doing, unprepared for the sleepily tousled and extremely sexy form of my sister in law the next morning, leaving me in a not so respectable disposition), and as such immediately warned Sakura against testing me if she didn't want to lose the use of her computer for the remainder of the month.

I was clinging desperately to my remembrance of the girl as the teenager she had been, but when she emerged from her room wearing nothing but a short, black nightgown and a drowsily curious expression, I was unable to remember anything but the fact that she hadn't donned a bra.

The advice seemed to be well received, I assumed, as I received a reluctant apology instead of the expected prank, and I accepted it with grace before letting the occurrence pass from memory (her memory at least), thereafter letting the much anticipated holiday commence without further burden.

Time passed slowly for me in lieu of the life altering revelation I had discovered the night of Christmas Eve, every single day consumed with my pretentious forcefulness and dastardly threats and every night spent trying to find untouched release from yet another fantasy held in behest of the woman I loved.

There was much difficulty for me while trying to keep up the charade, every moment I had to spend in Sakura's presence while pretending to be a cruel and aloof oppressor more trying than the last. We retained most of our friendship while we were not embroiled in fights or my unkindness, and for this I was thankful (I do not think I could have lived without her companionship by then), but my ploy was more than successful as well. I could feel a distance between us now, something not of unfriendliness but of necessary separation.

We became as a child and a parent would be, though in my moments of weakness I could not so casually think of myself as that much older than her.

Overall, despite my own shortcomings and failings in control, the days slipped by as they are inevitable to do, and as the northern winter merely deepened as it neared the height of its strength, the day I had had been reluctantly counting down to for the past two months came at long last. I had been unable to sleep the night before, even though I dreaded the dawn more than I feared anything else, and had watched the sun rise higher in the sky with disinclined acceptance.

The day my brother, and my wife, had been taken from the world was one that I had not wanted to see again.

I was unsure of how I was to proceed. The pain, the sheer agony of reliving the horror of that night was already ravaging me, and I could barely restrain the tears that I was constantly wiping from the corners of my eyes.

Sakura was absent for most of my shows of emotion, of course; she had left the apartment with the dawn, saying that she had errands to take care of but that she would return after lunch (she had been warned against indulging her cleaning habits today, retribution promised if she dared even lay a finger on a cleaning rag). I knew the truth of where she was going, naturally; despite her best attempts to hide where she disappeared to once or twice a week, I knew where she went.

Sasuke's grave was never neglected by his attentive widow.

I did not follow her as I was tempted to do. Despite having wanted to face my brother head on for some time, to lament my failure to him myself, I was not brave enough to do so and instead hid within my home, playing with my sons and doing my best to hide my misery. Kenji and Roku did not seem to be aware of the day, and I saw no need to inform them, so I did not explain why I seemed distracted when they asked, or why I lapsed into silence at odd times.

Sakura returned as promised thirty minutes after noon, but said little beyond a taciturn greeting before retreating to her rooms and locking the door. I wished fervently that I could do that same, but was forced to spend all of my efforts on upholding the front of stoicism for my progeny. Eventually it became too much, as the late light of afternoon began to fade, and I took my children to stay with my parents for the night, not willing to let them bear witness to the fullness of misery that I would indulge that evening.

My father said nothing when he allowed his only grandchildren past the front door, merely looking on me with understanding and clasping a hand to my shoulder. My mother whispered her comforts in my ear when she hugged me, doing her best to communicate that I was to be held blameless and that I should not descend too far into despair this night.

I told her I would do my best, trying to make her happy as she deserved (she had lost a beloved son the same as I had lost my irreplaceable brother and a wife that I had, deep in my heart, loved), but we both knew it was a lie and to her credit, she did not call me out on it as I turned from their door and walked back to my car in silence as the last rays of the sun sank behind the horizon.

My return home was delayed as much as possible, though I had to return sometime, and when I did once more cross the threshold of my home and collapse onto the sofa with my head in my hands, I began to hope and wish for an escape. This agony… the guilt and shame and _goddamn_ disgrace… I did not want to remember as I had been all day.

I only wanted to be able to sleep tonight, to find solace where I could since Sakura had not yet come out of her room, and with this in mind I had gotten up, walked to the kitchen, unearthed my erstwhile friends, and dragged them up to my own room with me, thereafter disposing of them in the manner in which they had been intended.

I had managed not to drink in more than nine months… I felt that I deserved the oblivion I would find in the alcohol for my restraint, if not for my pain.

Seventeen and a half ounces of gin and fourteen and three quarter ounces of whiskey later, I found myself sitting in the chair in the corner of my room, slightly tipsy but still annoyingly cognate, holding a framed photograph of my brother and trying to ignore the pained sobs coming from the room beside mine (Sakura had spent every second that I had been upstairs crying out in misery, and I didn't have the heart to begrudge her from it, even if it made my weathering my own hurt all the more difficult).

He had been in his late teens in the picture, sitting at my dining room table and nursing a mug of coffee with a smirk lifting his lips at the picture being taken of him, and my heart pounded heavily with sadness and regret as I traced a finger along the edge of the frame, looking wretchedly on his familiar and much missed face.

_Much time has passed, otouto, and yet still not enough, _I spoke in my mind, eyes flicking over the photo I held as I took another deep draught from the glass I clutched in my other hand. _A year has gone by since your untimely death, a year I have spent mourning your loss and trying so hard to find a way to honor your request, but in the one thing that you have ever asked of me, I have failed. Sakura recovers at a pace both timely and healthy; I am sure you foresaw her strength as long as I held true to the friendship we share. I have not, however, found the courage to draw her close to me, to find my own healing. It is too painful, Sasuke… it hurts too much to think that she would reject me._

I sighed heavily and haltingly, allowing, for the first time that day, some of my tears to escape and trickle down my cheeks while barely withholding a flinch at the howl of despair from the room next to mine. _I can imagine that you are disappointed in me. I am certainly disappointed in myself. I had never thought myself a coward before making the effort to do as you asked, to take your wife as my own, to give her my all, and to take what I have long desired of her… but I am. I am lost to many insurmountable obstacles, most of my own making, and I cannot see my way past them. It is times like these that I would ask for your help, otouto… but you are no longer with me, and I cannot. I am left to find my own way…_

_And I can see no way to press forward without ruining everything._

A shiver shook my body as more tears flowed from my eyes, my lower lip trembling and my fingers tightening around the picture and my glass both. _Brother… __**Sasuke**__… I do not know how you could have thought to have trusted me with something so precious and delicate as your beloved Sakura. Surely you were not blind to my less gentlemanly tendencies, since it has become obvious that you saw much that I thought you had not. I want her as a man wants a woman, more than I have ever wanted another, and more than I ever will want any other woman again, I am sure. _

I shook my head bitterly, drops of the water on my cheeks flying away with the motion as I took another, deeper drink from my glass, draining it and setting it down for the moment. _You were foolish to put her into my care… you should never have assumed to think that she would be safe while with me. I am too weak to withstand her long enough to earn her trust, and if I gave in to my wants as you told me to… what if she was unwilling? Would I be able to stop myself before I took everything she had? Could I keep myself from raping her without knowing it, so lost were I to be in my satisfaction at finally having her? I do not know, and that scares me, otouto._

My lips twitched up to the side as I gave the picture in my grasp one last glance before placing it gently back on my bedside table, afterwards reaching down and picking up my glass and a new bottle of alcohol. Tearing the seal off with my teeth, I poured the amber colored liquid directly into my mouth before tipping some into my tumbler, thereafter setting the bottle back on the floor and sitting back, looking up at the ceiling and shaking my head slowly.

_No, Sasuke, I cannot let myself near her again. I will continue as I had intended, letting her escape me and my desires while she can once she has recovered enough to function. You were correct; I love her more than life, but now I must love her enough to let her go. I do not trust in sayings and habitual hopes; I do not count on her feelings for me to bring her back. I am counting on her not doing so, in actuality. This is not what you wished for us, I know this well… but it cannot be, brother. I am sorry._

Looking one last time at the picture and raising my glass to it in a mock toast, I smirked bitterly and then averted my gaze. _Here's to you, otouto. My last gift to you; letting your wife keep you closer than I. As long as you both shall live… she doesn't seem to understand the meaning of the words, but let her dream. She can have you, and I will have what I have earned: nothing._

And with these contemplations, I thought no more, turning to the comfort of my drink to wile away my remaining sadness and to block out the still resounding cries of pain from within my own home. I eventually found blankness, and even sleep, in my inebriation, but no matter how much I drank, and no matter how much I pretended that I could not hear, I could not block out Sakura's desperate and unyielding sobs of agony.

* * *

_Geesus. That is all I can say._

_XD not really. Here you go guys, the long awaited and much asked for year one. Took me long enough, eh? Yeah, sorry about that. No matter how much I try, I just can't make myself concentrate on one thing at a time. Unfortunately, that means slow updates. I am working though, believe you me, and things will get updated at some point. I'm not dead, and I haven't lost interest in any of my pet projects. Some are just easier to write than others._

_So… leave me a review! Tell me about how rushed the ending seemed. The explanation of Itachi's threats good enough for ya? If not, let me know! Not enough detail? Not enough emotions? I want to hear about it! Just make sure to drop me a line, cause if you don't I'll never know!_

_Ta until next time my dears, and I hope sincerely that you enjoyed the length (55,000 words ftw)._


	7. Itachi: Friend or Foe

_Long time no see! Sorry for the wait (again), but I've been busy. Not with work; I just had a baby and I'm still getting used to her schedule. In any case, thanks for all the reviews and the reminders to get my ass in gear… they are the reason that you now have these delicious thirty or so thousand words. The rating is, as always, M, for the extra good reasons of language, graphic descriptions, stupid friends, and a teeny, tiny peek at some sexual content (the big juicy one is next chapter; sorry). Had to split it apart again; way too 'effin long, you know. Weeellll… that's all from me for now… on with Itachi's story!_

_Disclaimer: Honestly, if Naruto belonged to me, I wouldn't have room in my head for my own stories. Have you seen how many manga and anime episodes there are? I'd have lovable blonde idiots coming out of my ears. So no, I'd rather have my own novel ideas and just occasionally borrow other people's worlds and characters._

_Dedication: To Anonymous Pseudonymous, for the pleasure of our acquaintance and the high honor of the creation of another fanfiction account. This one is for you._

* * *

Itachi: Friend or Foe

* * *

Simply for the purpose of philosophical consideration (as well as to give myself time to make the decision between calmness and punching someone in the face), I like to consider what I could have possibly done to make an omniscient being such as a god hate me with such fervor.

It must have been something very bad. I cannot fathom any other reason for the misfortunes I find myself in; surely a righteous god would not divvy out suffering in such massive amounts as I receive on a whim. I know for certain that I would not, were I to be in their place.

Being a remorseless, dogmatic oppressor earns you little to no friends. My expertise on the subject could not be questioned, given my current status with my sister in law; spiky and uncomfortable, to say the least.

The past three weeks had crawled by as though the air had turned to lead, so strained had my home become after the resolution I had made, following the Christmas festival, to see Sakura only as the child she once had been to circumvent my desire to take her to my bed.

I had known that keeping her at a distance would be difficult, that after being so close to her for so long and then being denied her prospective love would give me more pain than not having her had… but I had underestimated the circumstances grievously.

I will be the first to admit that my plan, to treat the woman that I longed for with the desperation of ages so crassly, to pretend that she were not my equal, or even my better, was the most foolish thing I have ever done. Every time I look back on the decision, I cannot help but cringe at the illogicality and just plain _stupidity_ of it.

How I could have fooled myself into thinking it was a good idea is a mystery to me, a whim brought on by desperation and fear (yes, I will admit that I was afraid, though only to myself, of course) that should never have crossed my mind.

If I could take it back and instead accept the love I had seen in Sakura's eyes, if I could reverse time until that moment and take for myself the dream come true that I had been offered, I would in a heartbeat.

The misfortune of the situation was, however, that I could not, and now I was stuck in a blinding whirlwind of repetitive arguments, threats, tantrums and demeaning repercussions that I could not find my way out of.

My heart demanded that I cease and desist immediately and beg for forgiveness, that I fall to my knees before my love and decry my foolhardiness at her feet. My infernal pride, however, would not allow it.

There was a war to be fought, and damn the consequences, I would come out the victor.

And so I fought on, tearing apart the threads of what could have been with cruelty and malice and dishonesty that turned my stomach inside out every time I employed it. If it had mattered to me, if I was not so ashamed of myself and my actions, I would have been happy about my triumph; my plan had been a complete success.

The only things I could see within her while in my presence were hesitancy, cowed but grudging obedience, and a soft, bitter form of hatred that shook me to my core.

It affected me so deeply, so utterly, because I deserved it so entirely.

It had been so short a time, since I had begun this coup, that I could not believe the level this farce had ascended to. How could it have worked this quickly? How could Sakura have given up on me and her young, hopeful love so easily? Had she? Was she hiding it in lieu of my scatterbrained and unwilling performance, afraid to show her devotion should I choose to rebuke it? Would she have reached out to me if I had accepted, or simply pretended ignorance? Would she turn to another now that I had been so unfeeling to her?

So many questions and embittered feelings catapulted around my mind whenever I was in her presence, and even more when I was not, that I began to see the true flavor of the situation not too long after I had initiated it…

I had never wanted it to work.

I had thought it was for the best, keeping her away. I had thought that was where she belonged; an arm's breadth apart at all times. Where she would be safe from my desires and my fondest dreams and my clinging, despicable, self-interested "love".

But I could see, could feel deep within myself with a certainty I had never felt so strongly in my life, that not only had I fooled my beloved… I had fooled myself. I had thought myself strong and resilient. I had imagined reliving some of my worst years, at least until the end of Sakura's stay here, would not test my strength any more than it ever had.

I was wrong.

I had thought that I had lived in torment before, that I had felt the full brunt of loneliness and guilt and desire, and that it could grow no worse. Now, however… now I dwelled in an eternal hell of reiterating and never ending pain, my former torments almost alike to pleasure.

All it had taken was three weeks to break me, to shake my foundations and bring me to my knees in all but the most literal sense, until I felt that all that was holding me up was my spine, my pride still immovable despite my position. How I went on doing as I did every day, where I found the fortitude to uphold this lie with the casual indifference that I did… I will never know.

But it was killing me as surely as a cancerous disease.

Yet such adversity was of my own doing. No tampering from a divinity had been needed to aid in my own blundering, and not only could I not blame anyone besides myself for my endlessly awkward scrabbling, I would not.

No, there must have been something else this "god" didn't like about me. Perhaps it was the fact that I, not too long ago, had been verging on the very brink of pedophilia with my obsession and lust over a sixteen year old girl, or the way I had shunned my children for not being born of her. Maybe it was the adultery I committed within my mind with that same girl (the regularity of such only growing as she aged), or the hatred that consumed me when I thought of the betrayal I had suffered at the hands of one who should have been faithful to the end (despite my own mental infidelity), or the unrighteous pride that dwelled deep within my soul at the knowledge of what I could have, if I only reached out my hand to grasp it.

Come to think of it, there were quite a few good motives for cursing me with my hardships.

Nevertheless, and never mind the reason behind my difficulties, every day it seemed I was more put upon than the last. My work at my office of employment became unbearably difficult, and no one seemed to have the mental capabilities to assist me (though I should not have expected any different). My private affairs within my own home, as I have previously stated, were stretched taut almost to the point of fracture, and not even I could ignore the ever widening breaking points.

Even the time I spent alone, all by myself and with no reason to be bothered, was plagued with disparate quandaries (mostly stemming from the fact that, despite what I liked to tell myself, I was not made from stone, I _did_ need sexual release, and living with the woman I desired with mindless desperation made not giving in to my urges almost unbearable).

At the moment, however, it was hard to imagine comparing what I suffered on a daily basis with what I was currently being forced to participate in. I could think of nothing more trying, nothing more difficult, nothing I loathed more, than…

"Hey Captain! You still with us? It's your fucking turn."

As the voice of my most junior deputy pierced my reminiscence, merely causing my thoughts to be case in point, I resisted the urge to curl my lip in distaste and instead drew a deep, steadying breath. Letting it out through my nostrils as silently and as calmly as I could manage, I then turned my gaze from where it had been lingering on a painting on my dining room wall to the table I was sitting at, meeting the gazes of the people I hesitantly called my friends, before looking down at the cards I held in my hands, the pair of kings sneering up at me with knowing levity.

God, how I hated card games.

Resisting the urge to bodily throw everyone in the room from my home, I cast a quick glance at the playing table, gathering my bearings and the progression the game had taken since I had become engrossed in my own mind.

Quickly coming to the conclusion that no one else at the table could trump the hand I could play, with the queen, jack, ten and nine on the table (as well as the resigned faces of my last two opponents), I used my free hand to shove the pile of spare change I had accumulated over the past week in front of me to join the three quarters and seven nickels I had previously betted, at the same moment muttering, "All in."

Groans answered me from the rest of the gathering as Kakuzu, quickly followed by Kisame, threw their cards down and proclaimed that they gave up. Despite my aversion to the game, I could not help the smirk that lifted the left corner of my lip as small piles of coins were shoved at me, a hand reaching out to scoop them together and redistribute them at my side before reaching for the glass sitting in front of me, drinking deeply from the gin I had poured for myself earlier but had had yet to partake from.

It may not be the most enjoyable activity I could have imagined for myself this evening, but I had no qualms with taking their money, as small an amount as it was.

Scowls met me as I resurfaced, though none were as deep as that of the self-proclaimed holy man sitting directly across from me.

"Itachi, how the _fuck _do you always win? You have to be the best fucking poker player I've ever seen. You've _got_ to be fucking cheating," Hidan proclaimed, leaning across the table and pounding a fist against the hardwood top, and I sent the man a sarcastic eyebrow raise in answer, extending a hand to beckon for my friends' cards, as it was my turn to shuffle.

"It is not my fault you have no talent, Hidan, or that your poker face is severely lacking. And I do not always win, as you have asserted. Only three hands ago I folded and lost two and half dollars' worth of dimes to Nagato," I stated with pointed inflection, glancing over at the scarlet haired man I had mentioned with purposeful intent while shifting the deck of cards in my hands into order, and he shrugged as if to indicate modesty over his good fortune, tracing a finger around the edge of his tumbler and using the other to sort through his remaining coinage.

Account disreputed, Hidan grumbled himself into silence as I shuffled the cards, eyes roving over the room I found myself in, before finally settling on the clock over one of the doorways, which announced the time to be five after eleven o'clock. So we had been at this for a little over two hours, then… I was hardly surprised. The time had passed excruciatingly slowly. I sighed, passing the now mixed together cards to my left to allow Kakuzu to redistribute them for the next round.

Why had I allowed for the occasion in the first place, you might ask, when I could have done so many other things more pleasing? Why did I let these obnoxious, prying simpletons (barring my superior, naturally) into my home when I had no obligation, besides long standing tradition, that required me to do so? Why would I submit myself to such willful torture if I despised the activity so thoroughly?

Why indeed.

I knew why I sat staidly at table with a masochistic, self-proclaimed priest, a severely war torn miser, a shameless, shark-like antagonist, and a sly, all knowing, metal studded officer, why I didn't say a word about my discomfort with their presence, why I had, with bile rising in my throat, suggested the gathering _myself_.

Was there ever anything I did anymore that did not have this reasoning, that did not find its origin within those tainted, poisonous roots? Would I ever find a way to make my actions embody my own decisions, instead of studiously, diligently, _treacherously_ making them ever reminiscent of _hers_?

Of course I had done as I had because of Sakura.

I restrained the self-incriminating lip curl that threatened my visage, despising my very existence even as I once again picked a few coins from my pile, the dealing done, and bet according to the required minimum. I should have been used to her influence by now, seeing as it had now been more than six years that she had been the fuel to my noxious, felonious fire… but I was ever taken aback, always surprised, forever in wonder over how I could _possibly_ have fallen so far.

Could I do nothing for myself anymore?

Of course, when I was apart from situations like these I knew this was not true, that I was a disparate personality and had my own thoughts. Had I not sentenced my sister in law to a lonely existence, brim full with derision and spite, just a few weeks ago, a decision made by the only mind that could have concocted a solecism so crass and brazen: my own?

I snorted silently in derision, watching with dispassionate eyes as the men around me each took their turn, a conversation I had not the ability to decipher being furiously whipped into a frenzy of retorts and digressions.

Now was not the time to humble myself, as I had all night to do so while reposing in my own company. There were those who would be able to tell that I was, and I gained no real pleasure from confrontations or snide, sideways remarks. Suffice to say that, in acknowledgement of the line of my former questioning, I had indeed called my comrades this evening, inviting them to my home to while away the hours, so that I would not be alone while Sakura went out to be among her own friends.

It was not as though I minded being alone; quite the opposite. I had, arguably, the most relaxing moments in my life while unburdened with the presence of others. When alone, I could have as many thoughts as I liked, do anything I desired, and while I was technically never truly completely by myself (my children were often only in the next room), I could, in an empty room where no one disturbed me, pretend that I was not the villain in my own story.

Obviously, these were things I could not afford to have.

Thinking too much has always been my problem. Even before I ruined the lives of my wife, children, brother, and sister in law, I had been a recluse of my own psyche, endless considerations and whirling thoughts never ceasing to distract me from the real world and its inhabitants. I never had many friends because of this; while it provided me with nearly infinite droves of doting women (they seemed to find my broody personality and dark, introverted temperament attractive), my fellow man seemed to think of me as overtly superior and proud.

It is not, of course, being thought badly of that makes me reluctant to indulge my deeply seated desire to think as freely and as openly as I am capable. No, it is because I would do so without inhibition, should I be given the opportunity, and I knew what would occupy my thoughts if given the freedom of indulgence. It was the same reason I was loath to let myself have any free time to do as I so wantonly desired, the reason I kept my hands in my pockets when in my sister in law's presence and why I hadn't taken anything but cold showers for the past eight months.

I knew, with a certainty that bordered on the social naivety, and I would do all that I could (including torture myself into insanity) to circumvent the circumstances.

Unsatisfactorily convinced, I withdrew from my reverie in time to escape another chiding on the lapse of my attention, as my turn had come, and took a quick look at the cards lying face down in front of me to see if they were worth anything. Judging from the community cards and the amount of betting that had taken place (in addition to my four and my nine), I would lose dismally if I were to come to bearing my cards, but we had had yet to make it to the final showing in the past two hours, and bluffing had become something of a specialty of mine in the past few years.

Smirking, I replaced my cards on the table and pulled my bet from my pile, dropping it with a clink on top of my other stack.

"Call, and raise two quarters," I stated matter of factly, and Kisame grinned toothily at me from my right, swishing the contents of his glass and making his ice cubes clink together harmonically.

"Well, someone is confident. What you got, aces again?" he prodded while Kakuzu took some time to take his own peek at his cards, and I responded to his impolite inquiry with a small smile, impossible to read and invariably frustrating.

"Now, why would I tell you that? I have yet to take all of your money," I muttered, laughing quietly at my friend's consternation over his failed ploy (why he thinks he will ever be able to psych answers out of me I will never know), and from his place seated between Hidan and Kakuzu, Nagato snorted through his nose, mirth clear on his face.

"You are so unkind to your friends, Itachi. Can't you give them a little slack? We are supposed to be having fun, you know," he suggested, voice low and eyebrows high, and in an instant I was wary. He did not seem to be being antagonistic, and he did not look offended, so I had assumed that he was not aware that I was not enjoying myself. His comment told me differently, however…

"We _are_ having fun, Nagato," I muttered defensively, eyeing his expression carefully even while knowing I would not be able to see anything. This was the man who had taught me everything about the intricacies of interrogation; he would not let slip his thoughts carelessly. "What would make you say different?"

He gave me a half smile, leaning back in his chair casually and raising the edges of his cards with one finger to glance at them nonchalantly before plucking a few coins from his pile and sliding them forward.

"Call, and raise three dimes," he said, then turning back to me and sending me a wink that did not comfort me in the least. "I never said different, Itachi. No need to be so defensive. I merely suggested that you lighten up a little. You are among friends, not at work. Loosen your tie and sit back. Relax. Alright?"

I averted my gaze from his own soul searching blue, swallowing thickly and nodding my assent while staring hard at the pile of silver coins I sat before, fighting with every ounce of pride I had in my body to keep from flushing the bright red of humiliation. No matter how much time passed, this man could still make me feel like a child, a green recruit of no more than nineteen that didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground, and I hated it.

I hated more, though, the knowledge that he was right.

Barely successful in repressing a blush at the reprimand I had received, I disguised my effort behind another swallow of gin before returning to the table and, coincidentally, being plunged headfirst into the conversation I had not been privy to a few minutes before.

"…and the bitch slapped me! I mean, what the fuck, eh? I just asked her to go to the Gala with me; it's not like she would have _had_ to go home with me after," Hidan was lamenting through a handful of corn chips, obviously highly bemused as to why any woman would turn him away, and Kakuzu snorted in restrained amusement, eyes flickering over the gathering to gage his opponent's confidence in their hands.

"Yes, _why_ in the world would a woman _not_ want to accompany you? It's a mystery," he intoned blithely while looking over the edge of his cards at his partner, not bothering to disguise his sarcasm, and the rest of the table, including myself, laughed at the look of deeply offended consternation that Hidan adopted.

_Hey_! What the hell, Kakuzu? What the fuck am I supposed to do, huh? Get down on my hands and knees and beg? Sorry, but I'm not a gay ass wimp like you, asshole. Besides, it's not like _you_ could get a date even if you did do that; you're _way_ too fugly," Hidan retorted, folding his arms across his chest proudly as though he had made an excellent point and unintentionally wiping greasy crumbs all across his shirt, and Kisame guffawed without restraint, slapping his leg in high joviality with one hand while pounding his chest with the other to remove the alcohol that he had inhaled.

Nagato, also greatly amused, took the moment to interject his opinion. "Hidan, I think it's more the fact that you cuss like a sailor and call women bitches to their faces that makes them not want to go out with you than not, as you said, begging. And for your information, Kakuzu already has a date. He RSVP'd two days ago," he muttered, smirking deviously, and the small explosion of extremely colorful language that resulted only made him grin wider.

While Kakuzu took a moment to explain how he had managed to get a date where Hidan had failed (mostly due to the fact that he was actually a gentleman), Kisame, now recovered from his near death experience at the hand of hilarity, turned to me, setting his elbow on the table and waggling his eyebrows at me.

"So, what about you, Itachi? You got your date yet? I'm sure the opportunities are, shall we say, always present," he muttered beneath the din of Hidan's overbearing and profane rebuttal, heavy significance in his eyes and voice, and I used the opportunity he presented me to flick a nickel at his forehead, scowling with muted but fervent distemper and trying to attract as little attention to his comment as possible so I could quash it before it came to public notice.

This, like many other of my attempts at secrecy, was doomed to fail, and like to all the others, it was because of Kisame's overlarge mouth.

"Ow! Hey! What did I do?" he complained loudly, a hand to his forehead in mock pain and a slight, derisive smile on his lips as he knowingly and deliberately made our quiet communion public. "There was no need for violence; I just wanted to know."

As you can imagine, this was a more interesting subject than yet another quarrel between my most explosive employees.

"What? What did you want to know?" Hidan immediately prodded, the other two men at the table falling into interested silence, and, with a well accustomed knowledge of the inevitability of the situation, I turned my eyes to the ceiling and asked the silent, unmerciful, _damnable_ deity, "_Why me?_".

All eyes were trained on Kisame (besides those of Nagato; he looked at me from the corner of his eyes with a glint in them that I did not like) as they awaited his answer, and despite my heavily veiled but nonetheless pleading look, Kisame acquiesced.

"I was just asking if old weasel face had gotten a date yet. It's not like he has an excuse not to like the rest of us, barring the old man (referring, very rudely, to the General and his lovely wife Konan); women are very fond of the pretty boy look nowadays," he relayed with obviously pleasure, smirking at me from behind his glass (and deftly ignoring the pain in his shin from where I kicked him beneath the table, retribution for his mention of the meaning of my name and his revelation both), and all eyes turned to me as though our conversation were a highly riveting game of table tennis.

Nagato broke the expectant silence that fell following Kisame's comment first, raising an eyebrow at my sullen, stubbornly blank visage. "Well, Itachi? Have you?" he prompted, and I shrugged my shoulders stiffly, averting my gaze to my lap, where my hands were clenched into white knuckled fists. This was so far from their concern that I was almost affronted… but I knew that these men cared nothing for my privacy or my feelings, and as such forced out my answer.

"No, I have not. It would be a superfluous endeavor, as I aim to attend the Gala alone."

I expected their reactions to the letter: Kakuzu snorted through his nose, muttering under his breath of wasted funding and the like, Hidan stared with a slack jaw for all of five seconds before beginning to suggest a long list of females who would be more than willing to accompany me, Kisame hooted with knowing laughter, as he had been privy to my intentions prior to his questioning, and Nagato sent me a glare so poisonous that I felt some of my hair scorch at the ends.

This uproar continued for a few minutes time, during which we lost track of whose turn it had been, what the bet had ended at, and whose drink belonged to who (we had drunk a fair amount by now), but finally quieted when Nagato, who had been staring at me pointedly, sat forward and stabbed his forefinger at me, his gaze serious and directed at myself (I had refused to meet his eyes since I had revealed my plans, as I knew he was angry with me and wished to avoid being killed by ESP).

"You went alone last year. Surely you've recovered by now," he pressed, referring to the fact that I had, before last year, brought my wife to these events, and, with a great deal of self-control, I kept my face emotionless.

"I have, but I am not so lost on a dance floor that I need an arm decoration so I may be more aesthetically pleasing. There is no shame in going to a glorified high school dance alone," I replied with as even a tone as I could manage, clearly making my choice obvious as a final one, but Nagato refused to relent, slapping his cards down in front of himself in a fit of pique.

"_Yes_, there _is_. There are plenty of women who would be honored to go, and if you go by yourself and leave them unattended, simply because you are too proud to ask, you are less of a man than I thought you to be," he snapped harshly, a snarl hidden under his words, and I flinched minutely, looking over at him for a moment and then away once more, shame again rearing its head in response to his chiding but, along with its all too familiar arrival, came confusion.

What he said was true, but what business was it of his? Why did it matter so much to him if I didn't bring someone with me? Why did he care if I preferred to wallow in my loneliness than spend my time with a woman who I would never be able to bring myself to desire? If this made me a coward, as he implied, then so be it, but he needed to remember this was my decision, not his.

I had a right to have my own way.

"I am afraid I shall have to disappoint you then. I have no desire to go in the company of a woman who would think the wrong thing of my asking her," I said tersely, glaring at the wall across from me and gritting my teeth together audibly, and Kakuzu held up his hands before another retort could be made, interrupting the ever more tempestuous argument.

"All right, that's enough. Itachi, you don't want to go with anyone. That's fine. Nagato, you'll just have to be happy he won't be moping the whole time this year. Now let's finish this game and head home; it's getting late and if we drink much more than we have already, we'll have to crash here. I'm sure that wouldn't be appreciated," he prompted, looking at me sideways and nudging my discarded hand closer to the fist I had clenched around my glass, and I shook my head, both declaring my verdict on the subject and dismissing the dispute I had been engaged in at once.

"Good. Now, whose turn was it again?" Kakuzu said, retrieving his cards from where they had fallen to the floor, and Hidan raised his hand, obviously not realizing he was showing us his cards as he did.

We fell back into the game with focused attention, the bets stacking up as the circle was made twice more while nothing more than poker jargon was traded between us, before Hidan obviously became bored with the lack of stimulating conversation and spoke what came first to his mind, looking over at me and leaning an elbow on the discarded bag of chips he had been eating from earlier.

"What about Sakura?"

I was shocked by this unexpected question, and showed it as well; I had, coincidentally, that moment been thinking of her, having just glanced at the clock again and wondered to myself whether or not she had begun her trek home yet. I had warned her not to stay out past midnight upon pain of promised punishment, a domineering command I had issued before she left as a way to remind her that I was still firm in my position on the subject of her curfew (though it was mostly to keep her from getting into trouble out there in the night where I could not protect her), and as it was nearing eleven forty, I expected that she was on her way now.

She liked to try my patience by testing my boundaries, but never to the breaking point; in this fact I rejoiced, because if she pushed me too far... I am not sure what I would do.

I recovered from my surprise slowly, having difficulty convincing myself that Hidan had not actually been reading my mind and giving my friends ample time to suspect all they wished, probably providing them with all the conclusions they needed as well, before I forced my visage into lofty indifference, shrugging a shoulder and fooling none of them. "What about her?"

Hidan sniggered like a teenage boy come across an opportunity to tease an unfortunate waif, balancing his chin on his hand and smiling at me wickedly. "Why don't you take her to the Gala? I'm sure she'd like to get out of the house; you keep her cooped up in here like she's your personal slave," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow suggestively, and so unexpected and callous was this comment, so wrong were the images that sprang to mind and devastated my control, that the flush I had suppressed earlier rose to color my cheeks that instant, my gaze incredulous and mind scattered in return for the slight on my character.

"She… I… she does not like those sort of events. She is a shy girl, and the attention would be unwelcome. Besides, she likely already has plans," I managed to stutter out (dear god, _stuttering_? Was this what I had come to?), clinging to the excuse so none of those present would see how utterly I wished I could extend the invitation to the girl I loved (why hadn't I thought of this myself? She wouldn't want to go, that part of my excuse was true, but I could not pretend not to want her to), and Hidan laughed at me outright, joined by Kisame who, unsurprisingly, chortled with relish.

"Or maybe she just doesn't like _you_. I would take her; we'd have _lots_ of fun together," Hidan continued in lieu of his laughter, obviously lost in his amusement, but I found nothing funny about his comment. In fact, I found myself deeply offended by it, instantly regaining the clarity, the candor and, along with it, the temper I had lost for a bare moment.

Like _hell_ would he do anything with _my_ Sakura beyond share the air she breathed.

"That is out of the _question_," I snarled, standing up so suddenly that my chair fell over as I trembled in furious, protective, and jealous ire, and shocked silence fell over the room as all eyes present followed my path around the table and to Hidan's side, where I lifted him bodily from his chair by the lapels of his shirt and shoved my face within an inch of his. "She is _not_ going, not with you or _anyone_ else, and that is final. Now get out of my house. Get out before I forget myself and do something I will regret."

After a long moment of staring into the man's frightened eyes, making sure he understood how completely serious I was, I released his collar and jerked my head in the general direction of my front door, averting my eyes and ignoring the questioning gazes of my friends while Hidan gathered his keys and scuttled out of the room.

As soon as he was gone Kakuzu stood up, clacking his cards against the tabletop and then setting them down with deliberate slowness. "I think that I should be going as well. It is getting late," he said as he plucked his coat from the back of his chair, shrugging into it and adjusting it with precise movements.

I frowned at him as he picked up his glass and drained the rest of it, leaning a hand on Hidan's vacated chair back to steady myself (I was dizzy from the suddenness of my standing and from the volume of alcohol I had consumed, which turned out to be greater than I had first thought) as I registered the sound of my front door slamming shut in the background.

"Kakuzu, you don't have to leave. I didn't mean to offend…" I started, but he waved my politeness away with an easy hand, giving me a half smile and retrieving his hat from where he had hung it on the corner of a picture frame.

"Don't worry about it Itachi. I've learned to recognize when you've had too much to drink and are losing control, and right now… you need to be alone. It's alright, and I needed to get home anyway. I have an eight hour drive to get through in the morning," he explained, rounding the table and patting me on the shoulder before brushing past me without waiting for an answer from me, and soon after he had faded from view, I heard my front door open and close a second time.

An awkward silence fell, the clock ticking the only noise in the room, before Kisame groaned loudly, reaching his arms high in the air and stretching. "Well, 'Tachi, you can't run _me_ off. I'm gonna stay as long as I please," he crowed proudly, and I gave him a sedate glare before striding over to him, removing him from his chair by pinching his ear and dragging upwards until he was standing, and then propelling him out of the room with a glower.

"You are to go to living room, call a cab, and then sit quietly on my couch until it arrives," I instructed him, glaring after him as he can-canned through the kitchen merrily (he had clearly had just as much to drink as I had, though we differed in our particular behaviors: where I grew talkative and conscienceless in my inebriation, he waxed in the fulfillment of the unexpected and inane), before turning back to face the only man left in the room, staring him down as best I could without turning red again.

Nagato considered me from his chair with his normal, passive gaze, tapping a forefinger against the table as he lounged in contemplative silence. I quickly became uncomfortable under his scrutiny, shifting from foot to foot where I stood across the table from him, and still he maintained his discretion. Only when I had almost lost all patience, my jaw aching from how hard I was clenching it to prevent myself from speaking, did he finally speak his mind, tilting his head and folding his arms across his chest as he did so.

"You are bringing all this pain upon yourself, Itachi. It doesn't have to be this way, and you know it," he began, looking over me from under his eyelashes, and I took my next breath sharply through my nostrils, aggravation and humiliation welling in my chest.

_Why_ couldn't any of these people mind their own _business_?

"I don't know what you're talking about. If this is about the Gala again…" I began to mutter, no longer able to meet his eyes and instead gazing dispassionately at my feet, and Nagato stood suddenly, anger clear on his face as he slammed a hand on the table.

"Like hell you don't, Itachi! This isn't about the stupid Gala, it's about your _life_! You are making yourself miserable for no reason other than the fact that you are afraid to act! Be a man! You love Sakura… No," he warned, holding up a hand as I started to interrupt him. "Don't bother denying it, boy. You've been telling me about how much you adore her for years. You do love her, you know you do and so do I. Now do something about it. Show her you care instead of trying to drive her away, and she will come to you."

Throat tight and pride smarting, I shook my head and pressed my lips together in stubborn denial, refusing to allow the thought that he was right into my head. "If any part of her feels anything for me beyond reproach, then she is in err. I do not deserve her regard," I said quietly, trying to seem firm so I could convince both my superior and myself at the same time, and Nagato growled in frustration, running a hand through his hair angrily.

"After some time, that gets to be extremely irritating, Itachi. But since you insist, _fine_. No, you don't deserve her. You are a hypocritical, worthless wretch and deserve to die alone, wallowing in your sanctified self-pity. Nothing you have ever done makes you worthy of even laying a _finger_ on a single hair on her head," he snarled at me, and I whipped my head up to stare at him in shock, my heart seizing in my chest. Pain and hopelessness raged within as I was confronted by my deepest, darkest fears, and I hated myself all the more for hearing them from someone else.

I should have realized that he wasn't done.

Eyes shining with an unknown emotion, Nagato pressed on, keeping my gaze forcefully. "But you know what? No one else deserves her, either. No one in the world is innocent. We have all done things we are ashamed of; we have all committed crimes against the law, against god, and against the morals of society. So you all but literally cheated on your wife for five years with your brother's, drove Alora into the arms of another man, and now, after your brother and wife have died, you still want Sakura so much it makes you sick to your stomach. Big fucking _deal_. Do you realize how pathetic that is compared to what the rest of us have done?"

My eyebrows furrowed as my teacher continued on, blinking back my surprise at his cynicism. What could he be getting at?

"Kakuzu stole someone else's identity the first time he immigrated into the country and has had to submit to yearly inspections of his credentials ever since. Hidan spent most of his childhood in and out of juvenile delinquency centers due to his penchant for sacrificing neighborhood pets to his fictional god, and about half of his adult life in a mental institution for the same thing. Kisame, I am sure you remember quite well, spent a year in a half in jail for robbing a bank. And as for me…"

He paused for a moment, his eyes far away and clouded, before looking back at me with a bitter smile. "I did hardcore drugs during most of my high school years… and committed third degree manslaughter after dropping acid while I was on lifeguard duty at the city pool. A little girl _drowned_ because I was high off my ass, Itachi, and I spent six years of my life behind bars for it," he muttered, shame and revulsion in every line of his face, before he went on, his voice stronger and more convinced. "All of us have done horrible things, but look at us now. We are some of the foremost officers the police force in this country has to offer. No one besides the tabloids cares what we did in our past because that's exactly what it is… _the past_."

Taken aback that he would reveal this about himself merely to make a point, it took me a moment to gather myself enough to make a response. A part of me, the part that believed that someday I would be able to have what I wanted in life, sought to believe what he said, but the larger whole knew that it was an optimistic dream. The world was a cruel, dark place, and was not fond of giving out people's fancies.

I knew this with a clarity that seeped into my bones like frostbite.

"The past is past, yes… but there is no forgiveness for our actions. We will stand condemned at judgment day, and I will not drag Sakura to the hell that awaits me. It is not her fault I am without help," I stated, folding my arms and scowling, and Nagato let out a long sigh, standing slowly with his head bowed and his shoulders stiff, hands on the table edge.

"Itachi," he spat bluntly, eyes still averted but temper obviously alight. "I have spent all of my patience on you, and I am _done_ enabling your cowardice. If you don't grow a spine and make a move… I will take steps to force you to."

I blinked stupidly at him, not understanding. "Are… are you _threatening_ me?" I asked incredulously, literally not believing my ears, and he finally looked up at me, impatience and gravity layering his expression.

"Yes, I am. I am beyond the point of exhaustion when it comes to you and your shortcomings, and before you say that it's none of my business, yes, it does concern me. You are my most effective and prodigious officer, one of my oldest and most respected acquaintances, but most of all, you are my _friend_. It offends me when someone hurts my friends, and you, sir, are offending me greatly," he said sternly, stepping around the table after collecting his jacket and poking a finger into my chest. " So, once more: If you do not RSVP by this Friday, with Sakura marked down as your plus one, I will take measures to make your life _miserable_. Got it? I hope so. I would hate to have to interfere."

Satisfied with his meddling, he nodded and walked past my stunned and still form, patting the wrinkles in his pants down as he walked. "Good night, Itachi. I will see you next Monday; I have to be in Los Angeles for the next few days, but I _will_ be checking the guest list on Friday night. Don't disappoint me," he said just before disappearing into my kitchen, through my living room, and out my front door, making an unregistered comment to Kisame as he went.

Minutes later I still stood as I had upon Nagato's leaving, my mind whirling frantically but my form stock still. I was not yet ready to make my intentions clear to Sakura, if ever I would be, but Nagato _never_ made an idle threat. He would do something that would, as he had said, make me miserable.

The question was, though, what I feared more: Sakura's dismissal, or Nagato's wrath?

I spent the rest of the time I had to myself that evening considering this, watching television in the living room while waiting for Sakura's return home without really taking in what the late night host was saying about the Middle East, Kisame's hulking, snoring form on the floor underneath the coffee table ignored as I had not the resolve nor the inclination to wake him in order to kick him out.

I was disposed to think that I would, honestly, rather _die_ than face the rejection that would follow from my asking Sakura to attend the Gala with me. There was no chance that she would want to dress up just to be arm candy anyway, as well she knew she would be (to me it meant more, but to her… I do not know how she could be convinced otherwise, as most of the women who would be there would be exactly that), and all the consideration she would garner from being there with the host of the event… she would not, as I had stated before, enjoy being the center of attention.

No, there was no way I would be able to convince her to join me, even if she were to do the impossible and not leave the moment I made my adoration of her clear.

On the other hand, however, was the threat of my superior's ultimatum. Nagato was a notoriously somber man when not among his friends, intent to keep his public image one of seriousness despite his physical appearance, but no one in the department building was unfamiliar with his occasional rages. When angered beyond his ability to restrain himself, his temper was something of a legend, entire, three hundred pound filing cabinets being thrown from windows and interns being sent scattering like so many bowling pins the tamer of his fits of passion. I knew that if he wished it, he could inflict as much pain as was possible for a human being to withstand and remain alive; I had been on the receiving end of his fury once before, and had the mental scarring to prove it.

Making Nagato angry was not something that I wanted to do again.

But, as I watched her rush through the door at one minute until midnight, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed from her run up the stairs and a breathless greeting on her lips, despite the threat of mental and/or physical pain, I could not bring myself to begin to compare that to the agony I would suffer if I were to lose Sakura, even in the bare and unresponsive manner that I currently had her. Even if it meant being drawn and quartered, I would not drive her from my side before I had to, at least in a physical fashion.

So, with a halfhearted wish of a good night to Sakura (she muttered a response of, "apple martini" that slightly confused me, but she seemed preoccupied and exhausted, tear tracks dragging down her cheeks, so I did not pressure her for details of her evening and let her escape to bed without question), I shuffled up the stairs, turning lights off as I went, and sent myself to bed, listening to Sakura cry herself to sleep for the first time in months with detached interest (what had happened to cause her such distress?) and thinking, as my eyes drifted closed, that whatever Nagato planned to inflict on me, it would be preferable to the shame of trying to take my sister in law away from her mourning of my brother.

Someday, I will learn not to presume.

* * *

Steaming water fell with a flat, staccato beat on my bare shoulders, issuing from the showerhead set in the tile wall I was staring at blankly as I scrubbed a handful of soap over my chest, ears pricked to the splashing and soft tones of music I could hear through the wall that separated my and Sakura's bathrooms.

There was no real need for me to check on her thus, of course; it was not like she was so depressed that she was going to drown herself. I just… I liked to hear that she was enjoying herself, which only ever seemed to happen when I wasn't in the room.

Gloom overtook me again, and I blinked at the water that had settled on my drooped eyelids, shaking my head and glaring down at the bottle of shampoo that awaited my use. It was a sad commentary in and of itself that she should so despise me, but it was my own fault if she did. All I had done for the past four weeks was oppress her and threaten her and… and… _god_, I was stupid.

Better to be stupid than rejected, though.

The four days that Nagato had given me to ask Sakura to go to the Gala with me had passed with the clarity that only fear can give, the hours dragging on as long as years. Every second I dreaded giving in to the desire I felt omnimpresently, to beg her to come with me to weather another night of mental distress and defeatism at my side, simply to hear the yes that I knew would never come.

Inevitably, though, Saturday had come, and all day I had been waiting for the axe to fall, as I was sure it would, looking over my shoulder and double checking when a door closed and, all but literally, hiding in my office all day. I could not even relax long enough to play with Roku when he came to me with his toys, sending him away to play with Kenji instead. I had actually come to take a shower now to stave off the anxiety of the unknown (I usually took my showers right before going to bed), but it was doing little to relax me. The only reason I wasn't tearing my hair out was knowing only a thin wall separated me from my obsession.

Sighing, I bent to retrieve the bottle and swirled its contents contemplatively, listening once again to the water sloshing in the bathtub next door and Sakura's voice as she sung under her breath, detailing the conveniences of having a large rear end right along with Sir Mix-A-Lot. A small smile pulled at my lips as I eavesdropped on her before I huffed a chuckle out and squirted some shampoo into my palm, discarding the bottle thereafter and rubbing the viscous liquid into my hair to clean it.

If only she knew how accurate the song was for her…

I laughed again, closing my eyes to avoid getting suds in them, and allowed myself to visualize her reaction to being told that baby, indeed, _got back_. Her expression would be one for the ages. A moment later, however, I remembered why I usually avoided thinking of her while in the shower; her imagined look of mortification became one of absolute bliss, her body now just as bare as mine as I rode her up against the wall…

My hands clenched into fists in their position buried in my hair, my teeth grinding together as I felt the all too familiar rush of blood in my ears as it left all of the rest of my body in favor of fueling my lower extremities (one in particular more than the rest, of course), the blasted thing twitching into wakefulness despite my silent pleas for it not to.

Cursing under my breath, I untangled my fingers from my hair and went to stand underneath the showerhead, washing the soap from my hair quickly so I would be able to open my eyes to find the knob for the cold water.

How was it possible that I was so weak?

Just one erotic thought, hardly even explicit, and I was harder than stone and thrice as sensitive as water's surface tension, just the shower's stream trickling along me making my fingers tremble with need.

I needed to get control of myself…

My restraint was not aided when Sakura decided to pipe up in a contented harmony from next door, humming along in time to a ballad dedicated to some fool guitarist and his desire to become a hero by being played on a jukebox.

My mind instantly warped the sound from innocence to devilish vulgarity, the picture behind my eyelids becoming fitting to the altered sound in so overt a manner that I forced my eyes open to avoid it, my breath heaving from me and my legs so shaky that I had to prop myself up with a forearm on the wall, my back bowing and head sagging against it wearily while through it all, my arousal throbbed in mocking rebuttal.

Not now. Not today. Was it not enough that I had to deal with three or four of these on a normal day? I was stressed enough right now; I didn't want the added weight of sexual frustration as well. Gritting my teeth, I glared at the water dripping from my lank bangs as I reached sideways towards the knob to change the water temperature, resentful and sulky. I was getting very tired of cold showers and uncomfortably tight pants and my constant, overbearing, unresolved libido.

There was a simple fix, of course, but I objected to demeaning myself in that manner and, more to the point, refused to use Sakura as the unwilling object of my desires (hadn't I done enough already?).

No, I would take my punishment, as I deserved to suffer, and would be… be glad… of it…

My thoughts drifted aimlessly even as I thought them, my gaze drifting down to lock on my erection and my hand shivering to halt in midair, and I felt, not so deep within as to be ignored, _longing_. I bit at my bottom lip contemplatively, hope springing into being, as I thought my position over.

I had not touched myself in this manner in many years, longer ago than I could remember, and I had not engaged in any form of sexual release since the night I had conceived Roku with Alora. Surely… surely _once_ would do no harm. It had been a long time, and…

I shook my head and closed my eyes, clearing my thoughts and denying myself my desire as I cleared the rest of the distance to the water tap resolutely, closing my fingers around it and preparing myself to be bombarded with the ice cold water of my humility.

_No_. I would not humble myself like this. I was Itachi Uchiha. I was above such a fault. I didn't need this. I _didn't_. I was stronger… I was an animal… no, _wasn't_. I _wasn't_ an animal. God _damn_ it…

Hissing my breath out in a rush, I cracked my eyes open a centimeter, staring at the sheer white tile beneath my clenched fist and trying to tell myself all the reasons I shouldn't do this all over again.

I could barely remember.

I ran my tongue over my suddenly dry lips, swallowing past the lump in my throat and tightening my fingers harder over my palm and the water knob both. Was masturbation really that much of a sin? I knew what my wife's religion had said about it (something about it being better to spend your seed in the belly of a whore than on the ground), but… it was simply a way to relieve stress. That was all. It wasn't healthy to be this tense, and besides, sexual release was… well… no one had ever died from it.

Plus, I didn't have to think of anything (Sakura) while I satisfied myself. I might have the weaknesses of a man, but I didn't have to be a pig.

Nostrils flaring, I looked down again while, in the background, Sakura began to sing about pretending that airplanes were shooting stars, swallowing again before moving the hand on the water tap away and over the sharp bones of my hip, tracing my fingers slowly over my lower abdomen before taking a deep breath and, just as slowly, finally dragging my fingertips up the length of my manhood.

I found myself in wonderment as to how I didn't come right then and there.

I choked on the breath I had been holding, my whole body shuddering in pleasure from the bare brush of my fingers along my arousal, and I clenched both my eyes and my jaw shut tightly, repressing the grunt that escaped me with great difficulty and pressing my forehead into my arm more insistently.

_God_, it had been so long… I had almost forgotten what it felt like.

Anxious to proceed but wary of my audience just through the wall, I bit my tongue as hard as I could without cutting it and cautiously wrapped my hand around myself, thumbing the head of my turgid sex and squeezing it experimentally in my palm.

A shock of pleasure greeted me, shooting my back ramrod straight, and I bit down on my tongue harder to keep from crying out, my eyelids crushed together forcefully and my free hand clenched into a white knuckled fist. It was clear that I would not last long… I could feel the end already, compressing in my abdomen and tingling in my every nerve fiber, and I couldn't find it in myself to wait. I had _waited_ long eno…

"_I wanna fuck you like an animal…"_

I froze in place as Sakura's voice, muffled but clear as day, floated into earshot, the inappropriate song she was singing widening my eyes and pulsing under my skin. My hand tightened reflexively around myself, my mind skittering in my head as shock and lascivious hunger confused its intentions, and the gasp that resulted slipped from me despite my attempts to stifle it, the sound of the gratification I had garnered only furthering my ardor.

A desperate longing, hot and viciously tempting, pressed at my control, offering the best orgasm of my life if I simply opened my mind and thought of the woman next door to me as I brought myself to such long awaited completion, warring with my sense of honor and my grudging denials.

The song she was singing did not assist me, and with every word she spoke, hissing out innuendo and blatantly offering my fondest dreams without care, a piece of my resistance broke away, each larger than the last. The heat of the water and the flush I was sure I wore choked me and sped the blood in my veins with thoughtless abandon, and I, pathetic and craven, sent a prostrate, silent plea through the wall, digging my forehead into my arm and trying, _trying_, to keep from giving in.

Anything but this… don't _do_ this to me… please…

"_I wanna feel you from the inside…"_

Squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head, I tried to force the longing to give in from my mind, willing to do anything short of beating my head against the wall to keep from the temptation Sakura's song was proposing. Despite my struggle, despite my unwillingness to defame myself and degrade my love down to the level of mere pornography, and most especially despite my reservations, the clamoring ache persisted, and in an attempt at saving myself from the fall, I raised my eyes to the ceiling and, hopefully and desperately, plead for mercy.

Please… _please_ don't tempt me this way…

"_I wanna fuck you like an animal…"_

Confound it all.

I could fight it no longer. I would receive no deliverance from this situation, so… so I might as well make the best of it. Damned though I would be, I would release the ledge of my resistance and let myself fall down the slippery slope.

Weakened in my resolve and victim to the lust raging white hot and undeniable in my veins, I allowed the vision beating on my temples to entertain me, an imagined picture of Sakura in her bath taking over the bleak darkness of my mind as, with self-recriminating hatred but no wherewithal to fight my own desperate longing, I began to stroke myself.

Her hair was twisted up on her head to keep it from her eyes and the water, her bared, pearlescent skin flushed from the steaming water she lounged in. Bubbles gathered, white and frothing, around her body, clinging to her flesh and taunting me by _just_ covering all of her most intimate places. Her legs stretched, full and exotic, to prop her feet on the wall the faucet was set in, and her hands, laying lazily on the edge of the bathtub, wound the air around her fingers as she sang the songs that shuffled on her IPod.

My mouth gaped open for air as I willed my hand to move faster, my arm trembling as the need in my groin compacted even further, promising me a fulfilling, pleasurable ending soon. I licked at my lower lip, transfixed, as the image in my head changed; with a glint of mischief in her eyes, Sakura slipped her hand from the side of the tub to under the water, the surface rippling in excited anticipation.

Her crossed legs parted as her intent became clear, and, when her head tilted back, a moaned reverberation of my name laying delicately on her spread lips, I groaned with relish, panting and pumping and begging, "_Please, please, this is all I'm asking for; nothing else, just this…" _within_. _

I was so lost in myself and the moment, so consumed with the need that possessed me like a demon of pure, tortuous evil, that at first, I didn't even hear the knocking.

*_knock knock knock_*

"Damn, I'm fucking _starving_. Couldn't we have just called him?"

"Perhaps, but we're here now, so there's no use in complaining. We will go eat once we're done."

"Fucking_… fine."_

"I vote Long John Silver's."

"…isn't that like… cannibalism?"

"Shut up, Hidan."

I was so close, _so_ close; I could feel the muscles tightening in preparation and touch the semen leaking from me in my excitement and hear the dirty, humiliating whimpers I was making in the heat of my abandon, echoing emptily against the tiled walls. I watched with open, shameless greed as my imaginary Sakura pleasured herself, helpless to the sight as my hips started bucking into my grasp, my breath hitching in my throat and her name teetering on the edge of my tongue…

*_knock knock KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_*

"Fucking hell, you stupid ass shark! Stop knocking so fucking hard! You're gonna fucking piss the captain off!"

"Ignore him and keep knocking; time is money. And as for you… just think for a moment, you pious idiot; the faster we get him to answer, the quicker you can go home and worship that head of lettuce in your closet. So stop complaining."

"What the fuck did you call Jashin, you zombie bitch?

For a moment, I wasn't sure what I was hearing, too preoccupied with my hapless desire to care about anything that was going on around me, but when the knocking persisted, I shook myself from my fantasy, opening my eyes to blink at the wall incomprehensibly (I was not the smartest man while sexually aroused) and reluctantly halting my hand's motion as I listened to the abhorrent noise coming from the first floor of my home.

What was going _on_ down there?

*_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*_

"Fuck this; he's probably not even home right now. We've been knocking for like, a fucking _hour_. Let's go and let him take care of this shit himself."

"Dude, that's cold. He's saved your sorry ass more times than I can remember, and he sure as hell didn't have to. We owe it to him to help him out when this stuff happens. Besides, his and Sakura's cars are both here. He's in there."

"Kisame is right, Hidan. Itachi is our friend and deserves our assistance. We would not want this to happen to any of us. It's the least we can do for him."

"Whatever. He sure as hell better be grateful."

God, no. Not _them_. Not right now…

Groaning in destitute irritation, I tried to go back to fulfilling my need, but I had lost my muse; Sakura had stopped singing and turned her music off, obviously aware of the presence of my subordinates at the front door, and I found myself unable to return to the point I had been at before, no matter how much I entreated or how hard I tugged my noncompliant manhood. After a few minutes I gave up, my mouth pulling downwards in a grimace of displeasure as I watched my unfulfilled erection flag almost mockingly, frustration and mulish temper welling in my chest.

This wasn't _fair_.

Slowly, as I stood dripping and indigent and unbearably _alone_ in my shower, my unsatisfied need became unrestrained anger, directed mostly at the three men in the hallway outside my home but partially at myself for failing to resist temptation, and as my passion became rage, my eyes hardened and my jaw clenched, my shoulders tight and back straight once again.

Someone was going to pay for this.

I didn't even bother trying to calm myself as I slammed a hand on the handle to turn off the water, ripping the curtain to the side as I stepped out of the shower and not giving a _damn_ that it tore clear of its rings and fell to the ground in a wet, leaking heap. I didn't care, because I had three idiot police officers to take care of, and I swore, as I wiped a quick, careless hand across my face to rid my eyes of my sodden bangs, that one thing was certain in their future.

I would kill them _all_ if they did not have a life or death reason for disturbing me.

Malice for their intrusion and disgust for my weakness fueling my anger, I threw open the cabinet next to the shower stall, wincing slightly despite myself when it rebounded off the wall with a loud bang, and reached a hand into the space to retrieve a towel. Much to my surprise and bruised fingertips, I felt my fingers hit the back of the space, meeting no resistance on the way. Confused, I cocked my head to see inside, confirming that there were, indeed, no towels in there.

Thinking for a moment, I suddenly recalled seeing Sakura puttering in and out of the laundry room earlier in the day; today must be laundry day. Rolling my eyes and exhaling heavily through my nose, I sent a dark glower at the wall between my and Sakura's rooms, unfairly blaming the silent presence there for forcing me into this position, before shutting the cabinet door with a snap and opening the one beneath it, pulling out one of the much smaller towels that resided within.

Looking at the inadequate piece of material in my hand distrustfully, I quirked my lips to the side, opening it and holding it up to the light. It was very small… it would be incredibly immodest of me to go around the apartment wearing only my skin and this flimsy piece of cotton. But… it was not as though I had anything my employees or my sons hadn't seen before, and Sakura was still in her bath.

Plus, if Sakura had been doing laundry, there would be a pile of freshly laundered clothes down on the couch; she always saved the folding for when all of the loads were done. It was likely there would be some normal sized bath towels among the other articles. I could retrieve one while I was down there.

Decided on my plan of action but still hesitant about walking around in such minimal attire, I angled an ear to Sakura's bathroom again to ensure that she was still occupied with her relaxation, at the same moment toweling off as much of the water clinging to my skin and dripping from the ends of my hair that I could manage at such short notice.

I could not detect any sounds that would betray her removing herself from the tub, so, assuming that she had not moved and was waiting for me to answer the door, I tucked the ends of the insufficient towel around my waist as tightly as I was able, slammed my way out of my bathroom and through my bedroom before throwing open my closed door and storming through it and the hallway beyond (having to catch the towel and resecure it along the way; it almost fell off about halfway down the hallway), intending to carry my fury all the way to my idiot subordinates.

They would receive the brunt of my displeasure whether they had a good reason for being here or not.

It was as I was descending the stairs, however, that I heard, from the hallway I had just left, the soft sound of a door closing, drawing my attention and making me stop in my tracks, feet placed on different steps and head tilted back up to the landing. I knew for a fact that both of my sons were currently on the first floor of the apartment; I could see them as they sat in the living room, Roku staring, completely mesmerized, at the television screen and Kenji, holding a book to his chest, looking over at the front door with interest.

Had that been Sakura, or a chance pressure change from the heater coming on?

Distracted from my erstwhile anger (why had I even been mad?) by the quandary this presented, I turned and stared up at the sliver of Sakura's closed door that I could see from where I stood, wondering at the implications. It was entirely possible that it had merely been my latter supposition, one of the doors closing because of a gust of air from one of the vents, but it seemed to me, in that moment, more likely that Sakura, tired of listening to my "friends" banging on the door, had been going to answer it for me when I had emerged from my room, thus seeing me in all of my ineffectually covered, damp, enraged glory.

Naturally, I was mortified. She must have been shocked speechless by seeing me… well... practically naked. I would need to apologize to her if that were so. But how was I supposed to bring that up in a conversation, even as rude and blunt as I tended to be at times? It was not as though I could casually mention how sorry I was that she had seen my butt over dinner.

Then came the other side to my feelings: was I actually sorry?

No… I didn't think that I was. I might be a rigid and modest individual, but there was something about thinking that she had seen me in my state of undress, and had waited to stop watching me until I had disappeared from view, that appealed to me. I knew I cut a rather attractive figure among female regard… did she think well of my body? Did it appeal to her? I was inclined to think affirmatively in this manner; she had watched me in my near nakedness in silence instead of alerting me to her presence.

Had she been admiring me?

The smirk that began to grow in response to this thought, both lascivious and self-satisfied, disappeared when the pounding on my front door began once again, and it was with a jolt of reality that I remembered why I was even wandering around my apartment dressed only in, to all ends, a hand towel. The ache of unfulfilled release (Hidan accurately called this condition being blue balled) clenching in my abdomen and twisting in my gut was uncomfortable and inciting to the say the least, and the men that stood behind my once again shuddering front door were to be held accountable for its presence.

The conundrum of the mysterious closing door could wait.

Once again incensed, I pivoted in the ball of my foot and continued my descent into the living room, one hand keeping the towel around my hips from falling off and the other clenched tightly at my side. My eyes locked, with deadly malice, on the backside of the door I was approaching, and I felt sure that, if I had had the capability, I would be burning holes through it soon, so poisonous was my glare.

From his position on the loveseat (the pile of clothes and other miscellaneous washed items I had imagined sat beside him), Kenji sat forward and looked over the backrest at me when I appeared in his field of vision, hands clutching at the cushions and eyes wide in his surprise at either my attire (more distinctly the lack thereof) or the pounding on the front door.

"Father… I'm sorry, I should have answered the door. I didn't know you were bathing…" he muttered, obviously contrite for the trouble I had gone to to come downstairs in my condition, and I dismissed his excuse with a wave of my hand, not halting in my approach but sparing him a sideways glance as I passed by.

"No, you should not have. You know you are to never answer the door without supervision. And do not trouble yourself… I was finished," I said as evenly as I could manage, my lip curling unintentionally as I made the last statement. Finished _indeed_… "Now, make sure Roku stays where he is and go back to reading. I will handle our… guests."

The obedient nod I received served to pacify me, assuring me that my will would be done, so I continued on into the entryway without worry for my fury being witnessed, taking the last few strides necessary to bring me to my front door. Beyond the wooden apparatus I could hear the three men I knew to be awaiting my appearance arguing, each shouting each other down more loudly than the other in their impatience, and with an audible growl of annoyance I ripped the chain from its post, flicked the locks back, and slammed the door open, glaring at the wide eyed interlopers staring back at me.

Their silence extended a moment too long for me to handle, so, with a snarl of petulance, I took a step into the hallway and glared hatefully at Kisame, as he stood at the forefront of the grouping. "What the _fuck_ do you want?" I barked, hackles raised and mouth twisted into a grimace, and the tall blue skinned man took a wary step back, hands upraised defensively.

Hidan spoke first, leaning around Kisame's arm and raising an antagonistic eyebrow at me, in clear disregard of my pique. "What's your fucking problem? We pull you away from your daily jerk off?" he queried rudely, unknowingly hitting the subject right on the head, and when I did nothing but stare back at him, chest heaving in hateful ardor and fists clenching in barely restrained vehemence, I saw, from the corner of my eye, all of the color leave Kisame's face.

Good. At least one of them grasped the gravity of the situation.

"Hidan, shut up for once in your life and leave him alone. Kakuzu, give him the poster. Fast," he warned weakly as he shoved Hidan back behind him (presumably to protect him from me ripping his head from his body with my bare hands), urgency and dread in his tone, and, always quick on the uptake, Kakuzu stepped around him and shoved a sheet of paper into my hands, moving away and out of my reach again just as swiftly.

While Hidan mysteriously obeyed Kisame's order (thank _god_; he must have caught on to the murderous intent in my gaze and did not wish to die today), I looked down at the pink flyer in my hands, distracted for the moment by what was written on it; in clear, large letters that negated my need for my reading glasses was a horrifying announcement that made my blood run cold.

"_To any and all interested parties: as you may be aware, the upcoming Memorandum Gala is a gathering of both class and grandeur, hosted each year in a different city in the country and by a different officer of high import. This year it is to be held at City Hall, here in New York City, and will be hosted by the local tabloids' poster boy, Captain Itachi Uchiha. Unfortunately, Mr. Uchiha has become a widower this past year, is, as is to be expected, bereft, and is currently unable to bring up the courage to take another chance on love. Thus, as his friend and colleague, I extend an invitation to you, the citizens of New York, to reach out to him instead. If you are interested in making the Captain a better, more happy man, please take one of the slips below and call the number listed. My thanks and appreciation to you._

For longer than I care to distinguish with words, I stared incomprehensibly at the flyer I held in my hands, more than two thirds of the aforementioned slips of paper with my personal phone number on each of them missing from the bottom of it. In all honesty, I could not believe my eyes. How was it possible that someone could do this to me? This had to be a hoax, thought up in retaliation for some imagined slight.

But no…

My eyes narrowed and my lips thinned, the paper crunching in my fist as it was crushed into an irreparable ball. My promised punishment for defying my superior sprang to mind as I wondered at the meaning of this indignity, and with a rush of mortified dread, I realized that this… this… _abominable_ misconstruction of my personal life was my castigation. He had promised to cause me pain, and he had indeed inflicted it without mercy.

If I had not been so angry, I may have been able to appreciate his coup; it _was_ rather ingenious.

"Was this the only one?" I asked quietly, my voice shaking with promised destruction as I considered what I was going to say to Nagato the instant that I had him on the phone, and Kisame shook his head slowly, digging into one of the pockets of his cargo pants to withdraw a handful of crumpled flyers exactly alike to the one I held, but in different pastel colors.

"They were all over the place at the Manhattan Mall, Hidan took down about fifteen of them at that gym on Park, and Kakuzu said there were more than fifty up and down each of the subway stations he went through," he replied, tossing the posters into the trashcan beside the elevator, and I sighed heavily, dropping my head into my hand and pinching the bridge of my nose.

He must have had these infernal things posted all over the city…

"Call in and have a cleanup crew dispatched to take all of them down. If anyone asks why, label the posters as slander. I will deal with the culprit myself," I relayed automatically, my hand curling tighter around the paper I still held, and all three men nodded, Kakuzu pulling out his phone and Kisame reaching into another of his many pockets for his notebook.

Hidan, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants as he had nothing to do, looked me over as his accomplices worked, a frown etched into his brow. "So you know who did it then?" he asked curiously, and I nodded curtly, self-consciously pulling at the edges of my towel.

"I am fairly certain of it. There are few that would dare," I replied monotonously, and Kisame looked up from his notepad, his pen hovering over the paper and his eyes serious for once.

"Are you going to want to press charges?" he queried, expectant of my fury being enough to want to exact an equal amount of suffering as I would be feeling as soon as the first call came, and I blinked, contemplating. It was entirely possible for me to do just that. It was not undeserved, I had every right… but I had no proof.

Besides, I knew well enough what would make it stop.

"No… that is not necessary. I am aware of what it will take to appease the perpetrator," I said evenly in response, combing a hand through a strand of hair that hung over my shoulder absentmindedly, and at that moment, Kakuzu snapped his cell phone shut, nodding satisfactorily and turning back to face me. I looked to him expectantly, deliberately ignoring the burning curiosity in Kisame's eyes over my reply, and he gave me a tight lipped smile, sliding his phone back in his pocket.

"Dispatch sent out a crew immediately, and Sergeant Aburame is sending a statement to all the local news stations, telling the public to disregard the contents of the posters. Everything will be taken care of within the day," he assured me, and I nodded at him affirmatively, the relief that should have come with his assertion unsurprisingly not making an appearance. I knew this wasn't even close to being over; until I reconciled with Nagato, he would not let his meddling stop at this.

He would prod at me until I either snapped and went insane or gave in; as humiliating as it was going to be in the end, I was going to choose to keep my rationality.

"Very well. You have done well to inform me of this. Now, if you will excuse me… you may have noticed I was previously occupied," I said in clear dismissal (all along refusing to acknowledge the glint of suspicious assumption in Kisame's gaze), turning to go back inside with the intent to go immediately to my phone and ream my supposed longtime friend up one side and down the other, but stopped as the men before me went to depart as well, half turning and calling out to them as my conscience reared its head, lecturing me on my manners. "Hold a moment."

They looked back, clueless and interested, so I swallowed past my pride and went on. "I apologize for my reception of you earlier, and… I wanted to thank you for coming all this way and helping me. It… it speaks well of you," I admitted, and they stared at me in silence for a minute, obviously taken aback, before Hidan snorted and Kisame guffawed, a sly smirk curling the edges of Kakuzu's lips upwards at the same moment.

"Please… don't go getting fucking soft on us, Captain. We know you would do it for us too, even if we piss you off and drag you out of the shower and say stupid shit," Hidan remarked casually, waving a hand in the air as he turned on his heel and walked to the elevator doors, and Kakuzu nodded his agreement, sliding his hands into his pockets and strolling over to join Hidan.

Kisame, in his humor, merely winked at me, his arms crossing over his barreled chest. "That means an awful lot coming from you, 'Tachi, considering everything. Thanks. Oh, and make sure you call me later, tell me what happened. You know I'll just bother you about it until you tell me anyways, so you might as well get it over with," he muttered low enough to exclude the other two men, and I shot him a glare, shooing him away with my hand and watching him closely until he obeyed.

I ignored the part of me that was already setting aside some of my time later in the evening for the requested phone call, paying attention only to my footsteps as they led me back inside my home and my hands as they once again locked the door behind me.

Walking back into the living room, I immediately began to search for my cell phone, walking between the couches and looking over the scattered and disarrayed contents of the coffee table cursorily, lifting the loose sheets of paper and moving the toys and rearranging the drink coasters more times than it took, surely, to locate an object that was present. After a few moments of futile scrounging (now in a much more appropriate towel; there had been a surplus of them in the clothing pile), I began to doubt my memory.

I had been so sure of it being here; I could clearly recall setting it on the corner of the table on my way to the shower after telling Kenji to answer it if someone called…

Ah.

Enlightened and militant, I turned to my eldest son, who was silently observing me over the top of the Edgar Rice Burroughs novel he was perusing. Upon seeing me looking at him he ducked down behind his book again, but I could see his forehead, and it was turning red.

Guilty then…

"Kenji…" I called out softly, seating myself on the couch opposite him and folding a hand beneath my chin. "Where is my phone?" He raised his eyes over the cover of his book once more, looking at me with a glint of onus in his gaze that I recognized from the few and far between moments that the mischievous side to his personality reared its head and swallowing perceptibly, before answering me.

"I have it, father," he said quietly, putting his book down on the cushion beside him and holding the device out to me, and I sent him a flat look of displeasure, reaching out and taking the phone from him.

"And why is that? Did someone call?" I asked, my voice warning against a lie, and he looked down at his knees meekly, shaking his head and folding his hands together. I waited for a moment for an answer, but when he made no move to give one, I reiterated. "Kenji. _Why_," I insisted, and he bit at his bottom lip before answering.

"I just… I was texting Sakura. She's been up in her bath for a long time…" he replied, trailing off at the end of his statement into a barely audible whisper, and I sat back slightly, understanding at once. I knew that he had persisted in his childlike adoration of Sakura, but the depth of his affection took me by surprise sometimes. Perhaps I should say something to him about it…

Clearing my throat and shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I averted my gaze from Kenji, fidgeting in place nervously. How was I to even approach this subject with a seven year old? I was sure he was not ready to talk about sex; my mind rebelled at the very thought of him even having those sorts of impulses yet. But something needed to be said before he was hurt by something only a mature person was meant to feel.

Not now though. Another time, and soon, but not now.

Redirecting my gaze to Kenji once more, I gave the boy a tight lipped smile, smoothing over the screen of my phone with errant fingertips. "She will be down soon, I am sure," I reassured him, and the hesitant grin he returned with assured me of his being comforted by this. Satisfied for the moment, I looked down to regain my bearings, eyes settling on the table I had just been excavating, and frowned.

The toys and drink cups were not alien to me, but the haphazardly stacked sheaves of paper were. Upon closer inspection, they all appeared to be printed, notes jotted here and there among the pre-inked words.

Kenji must have being doing his schoolwork and left it out.

Shrugging, I made to stand and looked over at my son, who had gone back to reading once more in lieu of my waning attention. "I am going back upstairs to get dressed and make a phone call. Clean up your homework while I'm gone, please. I wouldn't want you to lose any of it," I instructed, rearranging my towel and tightening my grip on my cell phone, and Kenji looked up, surprise and confusion in his gaze.

"Those are not mine, father. I did my homework last night," he protested, and my eyebrows furrowed, my eyes turning to rest on the stacks of papers again. If they were not Kenji's… then they were Sakura's.

Perhaps they would reveal something about what she had been moping about these past few days…

Curious and distracted from my purpose, I sat back down and leaned over the closest sheet of paper to me, hesitantly reaching out and turning it over so I could read it while, at the same time, looking over my shoulder surreptitiously to make sure Sakura wasn't around.

Ever since her time out with her friends the night of my ill-fated poker tournament, she had been despondent and antisocial, clinging to the shadows in any room she was in with me and refusing to speak to me unless it was demanded of her. I had believed, for the first two days, that she had finally become angry with my for my heavy handedness and was shunning me as she was entitled to do, but when her distance persisted and she didn't confront me (she had never been one to hold grudges for too long and not do anything about them; despite deserving her disgust and derision, I could almost guarantee her eventual forgiveness for anything short of moral debauchery), I reluctantly turned my consideration to other causes, determined to discover her problem but unwilling to be revealed in my prodding.

This attempt of mine, unsurprisingly, had been largely unsuccessful; I had not necessarily expected to discover anything important by inconspicuously listening in on her conversations and looking over her shoulder at her reading material, but to find _nothing_? I was, and rightly so, slightly disappointed in myself. I was better at staking out information and finding out secrets than this; it was what I was paid to do. My shortcoming made me seethe within, but I did not redouble my efforts.

I wanted to know what was wrong, but did not want to infringe on her privacy over much.

This, rifling through her private papers, was the worst snooping that I had done yet, but I contented myself with the thought that, since she had left them lying about, she must not be too concerned with them being seen. This may not have been true, but I ignored the noble qualms that surfaced in my mind the instant that I picked the piece of paper I had just turned over up, squinting as I flicked my gaze across the first few sentences quickly but thoroughly.

_Recent studies have shown great relevance between before unexplained complications with pregnancies and the medically termed dysfunction of subliminal denial, more commonly known as SD. Of those put through trials, it has been documented that 4 out of 5 cases were caused by this symptom, and, though future experimentation will be sought out, it has been professionally annotated that there is no cure or treatment for SD. Dr. Orochimaru Mugoi of the Mayo Clinic stated in a medical conference in November…_

As I read, my eyebrows furrowed, a frown pulling at my lips and a chill of foreboding creeping up my spine. This term… subliminal denial, as they called it… was unfamiliar to me. I did not claim to have any significant experience in the medical field, and had not been around enough doctors or hospitals to expand my knowledge beyond rudimentary self-care and the knowledge that in a medical emergency, I would be useless, but even to my untrained ear, this sounded…

Disconcerting.

As the term repeated over and over the further down the page I went, not shedding any light on its meaning despite the frequency of its mention, I set it aside and looked down at the other papers on the table before me, searching quickly through them for anything that looked like it could explain to me what the mysterious words that were confounding me might mean. As I looked, one ear cocked for any sounds of approach, I wondered to myself about why Sakura had, clearly, spent hours of her time looking up information on such a formidable sounding sickness.

Subliminal denial, as was indicated by the paper I had read, contributed to miscarriages… did Sakura think this was the cause of her losing her children?

Throat tight in both apprehension and anxiety, I finally unearthed a page that looked promising and looked closely at it, reading quickly and efficiently through what was, apparently, the first paragraph of an article in a medical journal.

_Subliminal Denial, sometimes known as the Unconscious Genetic Rejection Factor, is described as a subconscious phenomenon, uncontrollable and without blame to those that suffer from it. In the studies and observations that have been performed since its discovery and naming, it has been concluded that Subliminal Denial, in its most essential form, is the female body's unconscious desire to carry the child, or, as is argued among experts, share the genes, of a male other than that with which she has mated, most often resulting in the miscarriage and death of the child she is carrying. Those women who have been diagnosed with this dysfunction have often been advised against having children, as the danger of repeated miscarriages seems to be omnipresent. If they were to conceive with the male that their subconscious mind saw as fitting, however, it is speculated that there would be no cause for concern for the welfare of the fetus._

It took me reading that paragraph three times before I understood; every time before, I found myself blank and uncomprehending at the end of it. Even when I had understood, it took reading it once more, with shaking hands and welling horror, for me to realize what was meant by it.

After that, it required every ounce of my restraint to keep my seat, so strong was my desire to go to Sakura and comfort her.

Clenching my eyes shut, I dropped my head into my hands, setting my elbows on my knees and letting out a sigh. What a horrid sentence to be given, especially to one who deserved it so little (I did not question the validity of her diagnosis; everything seemed to fall into place)… surely no one deserved to suffer in this way, but Sakura had been, and still was to this day, devoted to Sasuke mind, body and soul. She had never looked at another man long enough to even _contemplate_ the thought of disloyalty, and yet she had been cursed with this… this travesty of a disease.

What kind of game could a benevolent god play at that would require such cruelty?

Completely ready to disclaim the supposed creator of man and earth, done with obeisance to a god that would deliberately tear the woman I loved into so many pieces, I carefully placed the page of printed enlightenment back on the table, trying to keep my actions calm and concise so I would not throw something and alarm my children. The unfairness of what Sakura had suffered astounded me, making me wish, for all that I was worth, that I could somehow fix what had happened…

It was as I considered what I could do for her that I remembered.

_I stood, with my back to the sterile white wall of the hospital hallway, and held my sobbing brother to me, soothing his fears and muttering assurances of his faultlessness in this tragedy. Another unborn child dead. Another chance at fatherhood, a family of his own, demolished. He did not speak, but he did not have to. I knew he was in shambles, but also that __**he**__ knew his wife was worse. Sasuke cried not for himself, but for Sakura, and I knew he was right to fear._

_She had been devastated before. Now… with her second loss… she would be destroyed._

_We had been asked to leave the room while the doctors, a gynecologist, a pediatrician, and a psychologist, spoke with Sakura privately. I had been reluctant to leave, as I knew that my fragile and broken sister in law needed Sasuke and myself in this her greatest moment of weakness, but allowed myself to be steered from the room by a somber nurse, one hand on Sasuke's shoulder the entire way._

_That had been fifteen minutes ago._

_We had not spoken of why we had been told to leave; I am sure Sasuke barely noticed beyond his anguish and the forced distance from his wife. I, however, began to form my own theories as the minutes multiplied, suspicion and misgiving layering my thoughts. Why would we not be allowed to hear what was being said? Why should we be excluded when we were family, the only ones Sakura had in the world besides her foster parents (who lived too far away to be of any use to her at the moment)?_

_The only thing I could supposition was that it was because we were part of their conversation._

_I did not know how to feel about this, but did not have to wait very long reposing in my thoughts; the doctors, after only a few more minutes, emerged from Sakura's room as one and informed us that we could go back inside. Sasuke did so immediately, anxious to return to his wife's bedside, but I lingered, gazing curiously after the group of physicians as they moved slowly down the hallway, huddled around what I could only assume was a clipboard, and eavesdropped._

_I was curious to find out why they had deemed it necessary to bring a psychologist with them._

_Though they spoke in whispers, I could still hear them across the expanse we stood, and what I heard made rage stream through my veins._

"…_and Mrs. Uchiha's persistence in her symptoms is all but a clear indication of SD. I think we should call in the study group, set up an appointment to have her stats submitted…"_

"_We can't do that without her or her husband's express permission; you know that. I don't want to get sued again. Psychological defects are usually kept very private… why do you think that the studies have been so small? No one wants people to know something is wrong with their heads…"_

"_No, I suppose not. In any case, we passed up the chance for getting permission, thanks to you two. She seemed very distraught with the idea that her own body was keeping her from carrying to term, but I still think we should have told her it was…"_

"_Have a little humanity. It is cruel enough that she can't have her husband's children. There's no need for her to tear herself apart trying to find out who it is that her subconscious wants more than him."_

"_Yeah… but who do you think it is? I'm willing to bet it's a childhood friend. It's always the old friends."_

"_I'd put money on the brother in law. That's a hell of a man; he's got more good genes in him than an Old Navy warehouse. Plus, did you see the way he was looking at her? If she hasn't noticed, then her unconscious mind has…"_

_How dare they assume that something was wrong with Sakura's mind? She was not addled; she was distraught, and rightly so. I had wanted very much to walk after them and punch the offending doctor in the face, but Sakura's indisposal had been more important at the time. So, with a glare shot at the retreating backs of the physicians I had been listening in on, I went to my sister in law's side and added my comforting presence to my brother's, all the while wondering…_

_What could they mean by saying that I could be the one responsible for Sakura's lost children, simply because of my genetic prestige and the obvious love I had for her?_

I had not understood, in the age ago that I had stood in the wake of another of Sakura's losses; I had thought them to be smearing her name, insinuating that she would betray Sasuke and lie with me whist she was married and pregnant, writing her off as a head case. Now, though… now that I had read these papers, had this verdict shoved in my face without the option of refusal (I suppose that was my own fault; I did not have to look in the first place)… now I understood what they had been saying, why they had brought me into the conversation, why Sakura had been avoiding me like the plague upon her livelihood that I was…

I was the one that had infringed upon her subconscious mind and stolen away her free will.

My lip curled, a sneer of poisonous lament layering my expression, as I cursed my name for the thousand and oneth time. How dare I trespass on her honor in such a fashion? What boldness had taken me to think that I could ever have her for myself? On and on I chastised myself, claiming to not deserve her and to be below her station… I had had no idea how low I truly was.

I was a demonic serpent, dragging my belly in the dust and gazing up voraciously at the height of my angel's stature, wishing I could have the same and, instead of rising to join her, dragging her down to my own disgraced and reviled level.

I had forced myself into her mind and now, because of her sickness, she could have no other than me.

Disgust curled my insides, turning my stomach and raising bile, bitter and cloying, up my throat as I sat on my couch, hating and berating myself… and then came to a shuddering mental halt, staring down at my hands and blinking at the thought that had crossed my mind.

Perhaps… since she felt for me strongly enough to look on me with distinction, and her mind had decided without her consent that I was the one that she was to be with…

Perhaps I should give her what she wanted.

Swallowing heavily and shifting my eyes to the side, I bit at my bottom lip, chewing contemplatively. I would need to be subtle and gentle; she already felt that I was an unwelcome interloper, stealing the freedom of choice in her life by pressing myself insistently into her regard as selfishly as I had. She would not welcome me at first, with the information that I had been responsible for the deaths of her children that she had now… but I would make sure to offer myself. To let her know that I was here, should she choose to come to me as she clearly wished to.

To be the man that she needed me to be.

"Father? Are you alright?" Kenji's voice intruded on my thoughts, jolting me from my reminiscence, and I looked up at him blearily, still reeling from my discovery and my decision.

_Was_ I alright? No… not really. But if things went well, if Sakura opened herself to me and let me help her, maybe everything would turn out alright in the end.

This is what I hoped for, anyway.

"I am well, Kenji. Do not concern yourself," I lied, standing and picking my phone back up as I did, and walked back down the path that I had tread previous to my find, ignoring the set of eyes that followed me on my way up the stairs and deliberately keeping my eyes on the door to my bedroom so that I would not give in to my erstwhile but yet present desire to go to Sakura's room, take her in my arms, and make sure she knew that none of this was her fault.

Once I was safe beyond the confines of my locked door, I stripped both of my towels off and tossed them into my empty hamper as I walked to my closet, eyes locked on the screen of my phone as I scrolled through my contacts to the Ns, clicking on my old friend's name as soon as it appeared. My rage over his coup had disintegrated, only a simmering of my discontent remaining, but I still needed to talk to him.

He wouldn't know to call off the dogs if I didn't.

Holding the phone to my ear and flicking through my clothes hangers, vainly dismissing each item that I came across as I looked on it, I let a small smirk of intent curl my lips upwards, thoughts traveling to where I assumed Sakura was still in her bath. If she let me in, she would not be alone and wanting much longer.

My own gain in this meant nothing to me at the moment, but I knew that it would captivate me soon.

With the decision that I had made came the assurance that this meant the untimely end of my old plans for her: getting all the knowledge of child rearing from her that I could, helping her heal, and then letting her go. Despite how long I had planned, and despite how far I had gone to achieve my ends, I felt no loss at the destruction of my strategy. I had wasted a lot of time on my machinations, much brainpower and many sleepless nights, and I was actually satisfied that I was seeing the back of them.

Plus, this seemed like an all too convenient opportunity to bring my failed attempt at keeping my platonic distance from Sakura to its well-deserved end.

"_Hello?_"

I snapped back to reality as Nagato answered his phone, and I put my consideration of my future plans to the side for the moment, snatching a pair of pants and a button up shirt from their hangers before walking back into my bedroom, turning the speakerphone on my cell and throwing it on my bed as I spoke.

"You had no right, Nagato. That is my private phone number, and now I will have every whore and gossiping housewife in the Tristate area calling it, harping about how well they could fill my lonely, pitiful existence," I growled immediately, rifling through my underwear drawer for my boxers, and a chuckle answered me, the crisp sound of a book closing ringing through the receiver.

"_I did warn you. If you had done what I told you to, this never would have had to happen," _he answered immediately and smoothly, and I scoffed, pulling on the boxers I had selected with jerky, assumed annoyance.

"And if you weren't such a meddler, you wouldn't have seen fit to stick your nose into my business. You're attempt is easily thwarted, though; all I will have to do is change my phone number and it will be for naught," I prodded, smirking to myself while slipping my arms into my shirtsleeves, and I heard Nagato huff out a breath.

"_And I would just find out what it is and do this all over again. You can't win against me, Itachi; we've done this before, and…"_ he started, his voice clipped and annoyed, before I interrupted, my fingers folding the buttons on my shirt into their holes with little attention.

"I don't need or want to win, Nagato," I replied quickly, and silence fell after I spoke, the only sound I could hear being the slide of fabric against my legs as I pulled my slacks on. After a few moments, during which I began to worry that I had lost my connection, Nagato spoke again, his tone wary and suspicious.

"_And why is that, Itachi? Do you think I will give up because you aren't willing to play? This isn't a game. I was serious Monday night; I'm not going to let you, and I apologize for the analogy, weasel out of this," _he warned threateningly, and I snorted, picking up my belt from where I had laid it previous to getting in the shower and threading it through the loops in my pants.

"I don't intend to, as I have done as you have bidden me and asked Sakura to come with me to the Gala. You win, Nagato. No more games," I congratulated, the mocking sarcasm in my emotions not making its way into my voice (I intended to do as I had said, so it wasn't necessarily a lie), and another silence stretched before my superior answered me, the doubt he had employed before now doubled.

"_I find myself, honestly, disbelieving. What changed your mind?" _he queried, distrust in his every syllable, and I shrugged to myself, buckling my belt and smoothing one of my cuffs straight.

"I saw the sense in your argument. I have avoided this, the subject of her and me, for long enough," I paraphrased, having no desire to delve into the depths of Sakura's private affairs, and Nagato snorted, still unconvinced.

"_You will have to forgive me for not believing you, but I don't. You have been known to lie about things like this before," _he said quietly, a creak sounding in the background of wherever it is that he was, and I sneered at the comforter on my bed, kicking my foot against the post I stood next to.

"Then I will have to convince you. Check the roster for the Gala in an hour. I intend to RSVP as soon as I hang up with you. Question me on the details of how I asked; I made sure it was a moment not to be easily forgotten. When we get to the date of the event, ask Sakura yourself. I assure you she will be with me, if not just as my date then as my lover. I have had enough of the denials and excuses I have been clinging to for so long, and aim to let her know my true feelings soon," I snapped at him, feigning anger so he would more quickly believe me and leave me alone to my plotting.

He sniffed, obviously still unimpressed. "_Believe me, Itachi… I will. I will back off for now, but the moment that I even __**suspect**__ you have not done as you have said…" _he trailed off suggestively, and I sighed, fingering one of the ends of my hair that still hung lank and tangled from my shower. Damn… I would have to blow dry it now to put it in order…

"Do as you wish. You will see my earnestness for yourself as you please. Now, I really must be going; I have dinner to prepare," I excused, though I knew that Sakura had made reservations for the family at Chuck-E-Cheese's as an early birthday present for Roku, and Nagato let out a bark of cynical laughter, clearly amused by my assertions.

"_Very well. I will see you in the office on Monday," _he said before hanging up, and a victorious leer made its way onto my lips, success already assured. It was just as well that he was suspicious… it would give me many, many excuses to give to Sakura when it finally came time to ask her to come to the Gala (the last thing I wanted was for her to think I was being too forward and run from me). I would be perfectly able to fabricate my asking of her when requested to relay it; as he had said, I was capable of lying.

Satisfied with my charade, I reached over and turned my phone off, thereafter walking back over to my askew bathroom door and walked back inside, reaching down to dig through my under-sink cabinet for my hair dryer. I would take my time with this, not only for the sake of her trust, but for the likelihood of success as well; I had plenty of it, and sufficient quantities of patience as well. I had three months before I absolutely _had_ to ask her…

And I would use every second to my advantage.

* * *

_Arg a blarg. I really wanted to get the Gala in this chapter as well, but I promised a certain someone that I would get this up by the 4th of July, and… well, it's tomorrow. I won't have time to finish it by then. So this is it for now. Surely, though, twenty thousand words will hold you over until I get the next chapter done. In any case, leave me a review! Tell me what you thought about everything! Be honest now. I like hearing your opinions, even if they aren't pleasing to my ear._

_Until next time, friends._


	8. Itachi: A Wind of the Westerly Kind

_Yeah, yeah… I know. I cut the chapter in two again. Mostly so it'll be easier for you guys to read, partly because I'm lazy. Seriously… fifty thousand words are a bit much at a time, eh? But anyway… here we go. The M rated content is well deserved in this chapter yet again, with harsh language, unsanitary thoughts, diabolical tampering, and a severely poisoned potted plant to be looked forward to. Lemon in the __**next**__ chapter, guys… sorry. Now go read._

_Disclaimer: Were Naruto to belong to me… actually, I wouldn't care about anything concerning the story or the other characters besides fodder considering Itachi-san. Trust me… there would be many, many panels of him shirtless (drool-fest), and of him not dying, but kicking Sasuke-baka's booty for being a dweeb (someone needs to do it). Since there aren't, you can count on the assurance that Naruto is not, in fact, mine, and still belongs to its creator, Kishimoto-sama. _

_Also: Dammit, Obito!_

* * *

Itachi: A Wind of the Westerly Kind

* * *

I watched, with slightly appalled fascination, as Sakura scarfed down her food with a speed that I have only ever seen employed by Kisame, following her frenzied movements with a furrow between my brows. I was allowed my consternation, I assured myself; we had sat down to dinner not seven minutes previous, and almost three fourths of her plate was empty.

Evening had fallen, as it tends to do, with a brilliant sunset to herald the coming night, the colors of nature's brush pouring through the windows set in the west wall and across the dining room table in a display of radiance that, I admitted to myself as I sat sneaking glances at Sakura from across the table, almost equaled the beauty of the woman I personally considered to be the most lovely creature in existence.

It was only lately, these past two and a half months to be exact, that I had started to appreciate the wonders that the world outside of my own mind had to offer. It made me, truthfully, discomfited to discover that I had been so introverted as to never truly notice the calm magnificence of a tumbling river or the quiet peace of the wind through the branches of a willow tree.

I decided though, with the gratification that these and many other scenes of wonder brought me, that it was worth the embarrassment.

You may wonder why I had only opened my eyes to things other than my own sphere of being so very recently, or why I would even care about them once I noticed them. I had spent nearly thirty years of my life consumed with only myself and my own desires; why should I not continue to do so? I, in fact, found myself wondering the exact same thing when, a few weeks ago, I found myself wandering around Central Park with Sakura and my children and not planning or plotting or wishing or despising, but truly looking at my surroundings and even contributing to the conversation about the kinds of trees that grew there.

I could attribute the change in behavior only to my current endeavor; making sure Sakura was aware that I was trying to change and would be here for her the moment that she was ready.

It made sense, in a Freudian manner.

I was set on my decision of almost three months past, despite the little headway that I had made since then (Sakura seemed to only more devoutly avoid me as time passed), and in my quest to always be there for the woman that I was in love with, to finally make good on my promise to my deceased brother and to better understand what she was going through so that I could accommodate her, I had opened myself unintentionally to her way of seeing the world. It was not as though the consequences were terrible to behold, so I was not resentful for this change.

What I _was_ disconcerted by was how ineffectual anything that I did, in my attempts to make Sakura see, seemed to be in convincing her that I was a new man.

I had begun, as I had sworn to myself, to soften my approach and my mannerisms towards Sakura after my decision was reached, since driving her away was counterproductive to the end I wished to meet. I had expected her to be resistant at first, of course, as we had been through this recovery stage before (because I am a fumbling idiot), and I knew that I had been cruel; I did not expect her to forgive me immediately.

I had not anticipated, however, that she would continue to ardently elude me no matter what I tried.

Her persistence put her avoidance of me just half a year previous to shame. She barely spoke to me anymore, never directly meeting my eyes, and what's worse was what I overheard in the still of the night; she had gone back to crying herself to sleep each evening. It was clear that she thought I would not care about her reasoning for doing any of these things, but even if I was truly as cold as I pretended for the sake of continued pretenses, I would have.

I had only myself to blame for this viewing of my character by her, naturally… I had driven her to seeing me as the villain on my own and could point the fault at no other.

Regardless of to whom the blame belonged, this behavior was hindering me to no end. I had no opportunities to be alone with her, as she fled the very moment that she was able, and when we were together with my children or other various company, she sat so apart from me that it was impossible to speak with her about anything, even the mundane and innocent.

When we fought (this was an irrevocability, as we remained who we were and still butted heads over sore subjects), she submitted to me so quickly and thoroughly that I was often left speechless.

This, the devouring of her food as though it were her last meal, was clearly her newest attempt at maintaining as little contact with me as possible, but I was not discouraged…

Because there were moments yet, when her control slipped and she turned to me reflexively, that I saw her true feelings for me shining in her eyes.

It was these few and far between glimpses of her emotions that kept me from tearing my hair out, kept me from grabbing on to her shoulders and shaking her from sheer frustration. A brush of her fingers on my arm that was nowhere near unintentional… a slipped, sly comment with sexual connotation meant only for my ears… a heated, appreciative glance, sent from across a room, at my attire and grooming… despite my need for reading glasses, I was not blind, and I reveled in her accidental slipups, taking pride in the obvious depths her caring had increased despite my endeavors to alienate her.

This distance, while manageable at certain times (such as when she took one of my comments and turned it into a "That's what she said" joke), needed to come to an end, however.

I feared what would happen if I allowed it to go on any longer. Would she be driven to depression again, believing herself to be unwelcome in her feelings? Would she turn to another to sate her needs, desperate for reciprocation? Would she give up her love entirely, hopeless when viewing a future where she saw herself unwanted and alone?

Would she try to leave me?

I shuddered, clenching my hand around my chopsticks and making them creak in protest before loosening my grip, swallowing past the lump that had formed in my throat. I should not think of such a thing; it only served to depress and anger me. No, I could not afford to consider the subject… but the reality of almost having such a thing come to pass, and only a few days past, at that, was earthshaking.

I had been doing some paperwork that I had not finished at work in my office six days ago, reading over the complaints that the service desk had filed with bored distraction; it was not what I had wanted to be doing that evening. Of course, what I had really desired to be engaged in was an impossibility (as I knew Sakura would not consent to coming to my bed at this point), so I had abided by my task with mindless, droning aversion.

Sakura entering the room had drawn my attention without question, surprise in every cell in my body. I had been the only one in the room, and as such, she should have avoided it at all costs. She had approached me with measured steps, determination in her gaze despite it being aimed at her toes, and had stopped at my side, silent but sure, before speaking what was on her mind.

She had told me, in no uncertain or kind terms, that she considered herself as recovered from the loss of Sasuke as she ever would be, that she thought she had taught me as much as she could of the ways of caring for children, and wanted to leave to seek her own fortunes.

I had almost had a coronary.

I had never felt as desperate or helpless as I had in that moment, not even when I had stood mutely to the side at Sakura's wedding, forcefully keeping my silence so I would not speak my mind as to her and Sasuke's union, or when I had clutched at my dying brother's hand, trying to hold him to a life that he was swiftly departing. I could form no rational thoughts, in the aftermath of her claims; I had been swept out to sea on waves of denial and possessiveness.

I could not, anywhere in myself, grasp how I could have once thought I would be able to let her go.

My pique had had little to do with my endeavor at the time (I would be a fool to disclaim it entirely), but revolved in its most part around my so called love for the woman (I wondered, at times, if what I felt for Sakura was simple, though powerful, obsession, as my entire life was consumed by this infuriating, beautiful girl, though I dismissed the notion quickly and easily enough).

To think that I would have, once, given her up to the rest of the world, that I would have let her turn her back on me and depart to live her own life… perhaps, long ago, I could have done it. In the time when I had seen her merely as an interest, an unhealthy fixation, I might have been able to release her.

Now, however, I knew my mind and its shortcomings. I was too selfish to let her go now, and, likened only to a climbing vine clinging to a mighty, upright structure…

I would fall and, quite possibly, _die_ without her.

The moment I had grasped this realization I had denied her request, claiming to know best for her and that, in my opinion, she yet had much work to do to recover from her loss. I had known she would not have heeded my turmoil, as outwardly I was still a master of my emotions, but as soon as she had left the room, a storm of misgiving and thwarted temper in her steps, I had collapsed and nearly succumbed to tears, a disaster of epic proportions having only just been averted.

That was the moment that I had fully understood just how much I _needed_ her, and I would never, not even once more, let Sakura think that she could escape me.

I could not allow such a thing to happen again, which was clearly a threat as she refused to drop the subject (I ignored her whenever she tried to bring it up again, but the fear that thrilled though me each time she spoke of leaving me filled me with the cold clarity that only inevitability could bring). She might assert herself if it did, refusing to accept my judgment and depart from me without my consent, as she had a right to.

If she left me to wallow in my desperate longing, alone and destitute and yearning… I could not even bear the thought. No, I would not succumb to the fate that her misunderstanding of my intentions construed.

I would take matters into my own hands, and by god… tonight would be the end of her resistance and of my failings, and the beginning of the future I knew we both desired.

I needed to ascertain my hold in her life as soon as possible. I would begin this evening, by using her recent actions against her to rope her into going to the Memorandum Gala with me (I may have changed my outlook on life, but I was still under my superior's scrutiny; after having to deal with literally 500 calls a day from everything female that lived in this city because of Nagato's last punishment, I was loath to blatantly cross him again), she posing as my girlfriend and being forced to accept my romantic approaches for the sake of appearances, but after that night…

After so thoroughly confusing her, I would continue the same behavior while free from the restraints of my heavy handed intimidation, making sure she knew I would never leave her side as a suitor until she accepted me or told me to go.

Decided and firm, I raised my gaze from my consideration of my still moderately full plate to Sakura, looking on as she shoveled the last of her rice into her mouth and started on the remaining half of her salmon. I smirked, unseen, at her determination to prolong her struggle.

_Soon_, I thought to myself with relish, wishing dearly to lick the grain of rice that clung to her lower lip away. _Soon I will have you, and you will never run from me again._

Forcing my grin to drop away, I set my chopsticks down beside my plate with a poignant snap, drawing the gaze of my oldest son (Roku couldn't have cared less about my current occupation, as absorbed as he was with painting every inch of his body and chair with his food) away from his own dinner. I shook my head at his questioning gaze, indicating that he go back to his meal, before looking pointedly at Sakura, who had yet to look away from her rapidly diminishing victuals.

Clearing my throat, I spoke, warning and heavy handed expectation in my tone (all the while thanking god that this embarrassment of dominion would be over soon; I hated, with every fiber of my being, pretending to be so much better than her when I so clearly was not) that demanded her attention.

"Sakura."

I looked on, curious and intrigued, as a shiver wracked her body when she heard my voice, her frame locking down tight, her hand freezing over her plate, and the tendons in her throat standing out as she pretended at chewing, though I had just watched her swallow her last bite moments before. Her pupils dilated, her breath quickened, and, I was sure, every part of her attention was riveted to my presence across the table from her.

Her response was telling, obvious, and overtly flattering: she was reacting, with desire barely repressed, to my _voice._

This manifestation of attraction was most gratifying, and did nothing good for my ego; my imagination quickly got as out of hand as my lascivious expression. If the least of my charms, simply listening to me speak, was putting her in a state of quandary, how would she respond to my hands on her body? My lips on hers? My form over her, my presence inside of her, as we made love late into the night?

I physically repressed a grin at the thought, as Sakura had finished pretending to chew while she schooled her expression and had glanced up to meet my eye, and, with a pointed frown, directed my gaze down to her plate, to mine, and then back to meet her visage, communicating my message without comment. My meaning was taken immediately, if I could judge anything from her flushed cheeks, and with her acknowledgement, I put my plan into action.

"Slow down. Dinner is not a race," I stated imperiously, my inciting tone leaving no room for arguments, as I reached for my water glass, picking it up and drinking it from it while through it all, keeping eye contact with Sakura.

What she did, short of reacting with a burst of violent temper like I thought that she would, was completely opposite of what I had expected: instead of protesting my command or telling me off for assuming I could tell her what she should do, she merely nodded in assent, averting her eyes in clear submission.

Without even a glimmer of obstinacy, she bowed her head and did as I wished, slowing the pace of her chopsticks to a crawl that almost resembled pickiness, and I scowled, displeased with her lack of reaction.

She was supposed to fight back…

Disgruntled, I snorted through my nose and went back to my own food, frowning at my salmon and barely resisting a growl of petulance. Here I was practically shoving an opportunity to challenge me in her face, and all she did was submit.

This was not her. This was not who she was, how she acted… what I wanted her to be. Had I subjugated her so thoroughly that she no longer had the will to resist my halfhearted dominion? Was she so tired of me and my charade that she couldn't even deign my actions with a thought, much less a comment?

No.

I firmed my quavering resolve, pushing my fear away and refusing to succumb to my hopelessness. She was not always this way. She still fought me, in times other than this one solitary, meaningless instance. Had we not argued just this afternoon over whether or not we should go out for dinner tonight? She had not held back in her clear indifference to my commanding presence then; she was merely letting the round go to me for the moment, as it was useless to waste words and fight against such a minute point.

She was conserving her strength for a later, more useful disagreement.

Satisfied with the probable contingency of my thoughts, I nodded at the pile of rice on my plate and scooped some of it deftly into my mouth, already plotting my next move in getting Sakura to rise to the occasion of angry words with me (perhaps if I brought the price of her beloved ice cream up again; I had more than enough economy to afford it and we both knew it, but I had still protested her buying it so often due to its needless opulence), when my thoughts were interrupted by a shrill giggle.

Curious and cast adrift on my fleeting considerations, I glanced up to see what was so amusing as to cause the only female member of my household to burst into spontaneous laughter… and witnessed something I have honestly never seen before.

Kenji sat, with one elbow on the table, with his tongue sticking from his mouth, clearly directed at me and in obvious reprisal of my earlier chastisement. Sakura, in her amusement over my eldest son's rudeness, was doubled over her plate with a flush of not quite restrained humor on her cheeks, one hand held belatedly over her mouth and her eyes, wide in apprehension, locked on me, surely expecting my negative opinion of their current activity.

A more perfect stage could not have been presented if I had set it up myself.

Gloating satisfaction over my luck burgeoning beneath my skin, I set my chopsticks down beside my plate with purposeful ease, making my movements clear and concise so as to convey my faux displeasure. It is true that I was unhappy with Kenji's behavior (I _knew_ that I had taught him better manners and more respect than he was currently employing), and that I had expected Sakura to take some initiative in reminding him of proper table etiquette, but they need not know that I was nowhere as disapproving as I would pretend to be, as distasteful as the flavor of deceit was to my palate.

Soon, my pretending would come to its well-deserved end, and I would give no false face to my love ever again.

Smirking within but reproving without, I narrowed my gaze and aimed a poignant scowl at the two now mortified looking perpetrators across the table from me, their heads bowing the instant that I made my discontent apparent. Satisfied with my intimidation, I turned from my lofty appraisal of Sakura's averted eyes to my son's, deciding it would be best to make sure that he knew that, while his actions were not commendable, I was not angry with him. He had, albeit unknowingly, given me the opportunity to forward my plot, and I was grateful.

I would not be overly hard on him.

So, with my self-assurance of my intent, I spoke, drawing both of my preys' gazes away from their assumedly meek perusal of the table top.

"May I rest assured that I will never see such disrespectful behavior at the table again, Kenji?" I queried slowly, ignoring Sakura as her consternated and affronted expression made her mindset as to my veiled demand all too clear (she was reacting passionately… _excellent_), and Kenji slumped in his chair beneath the weight of my disappointment, his lower lip pouting out and his shoulders drooping sadly.

"Yes, father," he muttered under his breath in answer, his cheeks flushed in shame and his gaze on his knees in an attempt to avoid looking at me as I reprimanded him, but as pleased as I was with his obeisance, I was not satisfied with his behavior.

I was raising him to be a gentleman, and if he could not even look his own father in the eyes while he spoke, he wouldn't be able to do it with someone far more important. I did not want this chance scolding to become a lesson in humility, but I would accept nothing less than the best from him when I knew his capabilities.

Manners and good breeding were things to be observed at all times, even if I was all but a hypocrite in my behavior at the moment.

"Always look at the person that you are talking to, boy, and when you speak, speak _clearly_," I corrected, looking down my nose at the little boy sinking down in the chair beside me and not allowing any room for discussion or excuses with my tone alone. He knew better, and that I knew he did. "Now, once more: can I trust you to understand that I will not allow such a display at my table again without consequence?"

His response was instantaneous; he had heard the threat in my words and knew me to have no humor or leniency in such things as his behaviors in polite society, and immediately straightened from his slouch, turning to meet my gaze with obediently accepting eyes.

"Yes, father," he replied with clarity, and I nodded, resisting the urge to smile at him in reassurance. We were not done with this performance, and the prima donna had yet to put in her appearance.

I would make my amends once Sakura's part was played.

"Good. Continue eating," I dismissed, waving a hand at his plate to show that he was to remove himself from the conversation, before turning back to Sakura, my gaze sharpening as I met her up raised chin and her willfully challenging eyes. She would mistake the change for anger or irritation, but those were far from what I felt at the moment; all I knew, in the wake of the revival of her temper, was triumph and voracious pleasure.

I had her where I wanted her now, and she would not escape this time.

My assumption was proved only more correct when she rolled her eyes at me, her action a clear incitement (she knew how much I hated it when she did that), and I felt my eyes narrow in victory, already guaranteed success bubbling just beneath my skin. I could not allow her to know my intent by showing happiness when I was supposed to be angry, however, so I formed my lips into an intimidating snarl, my weight on my hands as I leaned over the table towards her defiant form, palms flat on the surface before me.

She held firm despite my coercion, a sneer of bold audacity on her lips, and I let out a silent huff of appreciation, admiring for the millionth time how strong she was when standing against me. I missed seeing her like this, so fiery and stalwart. She was the only one that could ever put me in my place…

But this was not the time.

Shoving my approval away, I met her insolence with my own, glaring at her deceptively.

"Your discourteous behavior cannot be dismissed so easily, however. You are supposed to be the adult in this situation, and you not only failed to apply the proper discipline for my son's action, you _encouraged_ it. You are to go to my office after dinner," I demanded forcefully, enjoying the way that her eyes flared while I delivered my commands. She would not stand to be treated this way, and when she reacted, she would be playing right into my hands. How I _loved_ when my plans actually worked… "We will discuss your childish conduct at that point and come to some sort of arrangement as to what should be done about it."

Finished and confident that I had achieved my end (pissing her off), I sat back and looked at her expectantly, opening the floor to her surely adamant reactions. She did not disappoint: as soon as I had stopped speaking her eyes had narrowed dangerously, a poisonous glare lighting them into a green so acidic that it seemed capable of physical harm, and the muscles in her neck clenched, a clear sign that her teeth were being gritted together in restraint.

Her tiny hands shook in her rage as they sat curled on the edge of the table, her knuckles white from the force of her grip, and offense, surliness, and barely withheld violence lay in every line of her body; I am sure she would have dearly liked to hit me at the moment.

Perfect.

I looked on as she stewed within, vehemence warring with common sense, and could barely keep from smirking at her, my already assured victory almost too much for me to handle. It pleased me to know that I could anticipate her reactions so well, that I knew her within an inch of her mindset, and with a sense of superiority that I felt I deserved at the moment, I set about guessing what she would decide to do, whether or not she would judge it most prudent to keep her silence and acquiesce or to fight against my will.

She would see the wisdom in backing down, and her behavior these past months would reinforce this path of hers. This was not what I wanted, since I was trying to get her to react so I would have reason to inflict the punishment of my presence on her during the Gala, but there was a good chance that she would simply, once again, bow to my wishes.

On the other hand, her temper at the moment was such that she might just lash out, words hardly considered in her rage over my treatment of her. She was offended by my despotism, I knew it just by looking on her as she sat glaring at me with all her power, and if her anger was enough, she would throw propriety and intelligence to the side and fight back.

The likelihood of this was much less than it used to be, as she had not defied me openly in more than two months, but I held on to my hope and, when her expression morphed into one of determined disregard, I nearly crowed with pleasure, expectation of the forwarding of my intentions and playful incitement crowding in my mind.

And now to pour water on the cat.

Cutting her off before she could say anything, even though she had already opened her mouth and pointed an accusing finger at me, her posture speaking of unrestrained resentment and callous reprisal, I spoke, delivering my assumptions of her presumed comment and a harsh sentence along with it, meaning to provoke rebellion with my every syllable.

"If you are about to say what I think you are, then I suggest that you think better of it. If I were to be contested on my sense of justice, the perpetrator would find that they forfeited any say in their punishment at all and would be confined to the apartment for a week, as a start. Do you wish to continue armed with this knowledge?" I queried antagonistically, leaning a forearm on the tabletop and rising an eyebrow at her in obvious and scathing jocularity, and her expression became one of such conflicted hatred that I nearly laughed out loud.

She looked adorable when she tried to be intimidating.

The awareness in her eyes regressed as she clearly considered her options once more, drawing into herself and no longer paying me or anything else in the room any attention, so I used her distraction to glance away from her and to the spectacle that Kenji was making of himself, his eyes pleading as they looked on Sakura and his head whipping wildly from side to side, trying to clue the oblivious woman in to the fact that opposing me when I had delivered a blatant threat was not wise in the least.

He stopped the moment that he noticed that I had turned my attention to him, and as soon as he had ceased in his foolish caprices I pointed a commanding finger at his plate, silently directing him to attend to his food and his own business. He adopted an expression of mulish denial, shooting the still quietly introverted Sakura a worried look, and I shook my head, once again firmly indicating his plate.

This was none of his concern, and he need not make it so.

Scowling petulantly and grumbling under his breath, he slowly did as he was bidden and went back to his food, and I turned back to Sakura in time to see her emerge from her ruminations with a defeated expression layering her gaze, her whole body bowing as she averted her gaze to her unfinished dinner, poking the tips of her chopsticks around in her fish. Everything in her posture spoke of reluctant but complete deference, clearly no longer wishing to engage me in verbal battle, but I would not allow this.

She was not permitted to resist now, after I was so close.

Acting the part of relief over her compliance, I sat back in my chair with an assumed smirk on my lips, looking on as she watched me from beneath her eyelashes. Good; my feigned pleasure over her submission would only serve to anger her more.

"I suppose I can take that as your answer, then. Very well... go to your room to wait for us to finish, and come down to my office in half an hour. You are dismissed," I drawled, putting special inference on how uncaring I was of her feelings regarding my release of her, and I was rewarded for my degradation with an instantly dropped jaw, injustice and raging temper welling in her suddenly raised eyes.

"What? _Seriously_?" she hissed, surprise and offense echoing from her words alone. "But… no! That's not fair! You can't treat me like this, Itachi, it's not…" she started to complain, disturbed temper making her fists clench and cold fury making her body shake, and I, successful in my endeavor to make her vocally protest, stood up warningly from my chair, looming dangerously but without real threat.

I had all the reason I needed for my plan to go forward now; I couldn't let her say anything else that could potentially ruin it.

She immediately fell silent when I gained my feet, her angry flush falling from her cheeks and leaving them deathly pale, and she thrust herself from her own chair and all but flew to the doorway with her hands raised in surrender, far more intimidated than I liked (I frowned, within; did she think I would hurt her for disobeying me?).

"_Alright_! I'm going! See?" she yelped, cowering away from me and edging out of the room with, clearly, every intention of bolting should I take even one step closer.

A pang of guilt shook me as I looked on her fear, self-loathing and spite almost making an apology spill from my lips, but I shook my pity off and looked away from her, falling back into my seat with an uncaring hand wave to Sakura in way of a response, showing that she was to go. I did not look up from my plate again until I was sure she was gone, listening to her stomping up the stairs gratefully before lifting my gaze to the ceiling, letting out a sigh and putting a hand over my eyes.

I could not allow myself to succumb to my onus like this; I was entirely deserving of having it raze me like so many sharp bladed knives, but I had a role to play yet. Even if she had looked at me like she feared I would harm her… like I was even _capable_ of laying my hands on her in anger…

She clearly did, and the knowledge that she had come to question my very moral fiber was all the indication I needed that this farce had gone on for too long.

As relieved from my despising of my recent foolish actions as I ever could be, I lowered my eyes back to reality just in time to see Kenji look away from me, the expression of distaste and anger on his face not hidden by his bangs as well as he thought it was. One of my brows rose impulsively as I wondered at his sudden lack of respect towards my person (he was being very rude tonight, and if I hadn't deserved his derision entirely, I would have ensured that he knew how much I did not appreciate his behavior), and I folded my arms, looking on him fully.

"Is your food displeasing to your tastes, Kenji, or do you have something you wish to say to me? Either way, enlighten me; it does you no favors making such faces at the table," I directed pointedly, and he froze in place, clearly not having expected me to notice his disquiet. He looked at me from the cover of his hair, judging whether or not I was angry, and, seeing that I was merely curious at the moment, decided to comply.

"I think that you are too mean to Sakura. She didn't do anything wrong. She never does. But you still treat her like a little kid; worse than you do me," he observed, his tone hard and his expression unforgiving in his judgment. I was taken aback; I hadn't thought that he was so affected by how I treated Sakura… "If she had been looking at you like I had, you would have told her off. Why do you do that to her? I thought you were her friend."

I maintained our eye contact for a few moments, as long as I could manage, before averting my gaze, looking at the centerpiece on the table in front of me to avoid his accusing stare.

"Kenji… you would not understand," I said quietly, fingering the edge of my napkin before remembering my discussion with him not five minutes ago and looking back at him politely. "But it is none of your business what I do, to be frank, and I do not need your consent to behave as I wish."

His lip twitched at this, clearly wishing to sneer but mindful of what my reaction to that rudeness would be, and instead settled for standing up, putting his hands on his hips, and scowling at me in a carefully non-offensive way.

"Maybe not, but she doesn't deserve that. I don't want you to act like that to my… uh, to Sakura anymore," he complained, stumbling over his close admition to his feelings for Sakura, and I blinked, suddenly remembering my delayed need to speak to him about this very subject.

Putting my defensiveness over his words to the side for the moment, I turned to face him fully, scooting my chair out and putting my elbows on my knees.

"Kenji… do you like Sakura?" I started slowly, easing into the subject as broadly as I could manage, and he squinted at me suspiciously, taken aback by the subject change.

"Well… yes. She's funny, and she's smart, and she's… my best friend, so…" he trailed off, acknowledging the admonishing look in my gaze and realizing that I wasn't looking for those sorts of answers quickly. With a flush of indignity, he swallowed heavily, hands twining behind his back, and nodded in assent. "I like her."

Huffing out a breath in expectant acceptance, I gave my blushing, love struck son a sedate smile.

"It is alright to like a girl, Kenji; it is normal. But son… you should like girls more your own age. Sakura is a grown woman," I explained as gently as I could, and Kenji, clearly having been expecting this, let his head fall forward slightly.

"I know. I just… she's so pretty and she's not stupid like the girls in class. She… she _gets_ me," he excused brokenly, and I smirked bitterly, all too familiar with his feelings for the subject of our conversation. Did I not think these things, and so much more, every day?

"I understand Kenji; believe me, I do. But someday, when you are older, you will meet a girl closer to your age that cares for you like Sakura does, that understands you and stands more beautiful than anyone else in the world in your eyes and likes you back, and then you will see that it was better to have waited for her than to have clung to the first person you ever liked without thinking about the consequences," I said, looking down at my toes and letting out a sigh, cursing myself internally.

I had begun recalling, without realizing, my own shortcomings…

Unfortunately, Kenji was not blind to my change in demeanor, tilting his head and falling silent long enough to come up with a shrewd question of his own.

"Father… do _you_ like Sakura?" he asked quietly, taking a step around his chair so he could see me more clearly, and I jerked my head up so suddenly that I gave myself a crick in my neck, staring at him with widened and shocked eyes.

So sudden was his question, so seemingly unexpected was his logic, that I could not respond immediately by shoving his assumption to the side with practiced ease like I should have been able to. All I could do was gawp like a fish out of water, scrabbling for an excuse, a reason, _anything_, to disclaim his assumption.

I could think of nothing.

Ashamed but frantic to set his unknowingly apt assumption aside, I turned my eyes away from his earnest ones, looking down at my shoes so I had something to focus on that would not make me feel more guilty than I already was. It should have been easy to lie to him, really; I had been practicing my skills in deceit for many years, on this subject in particular. Now though…

Now, in this moment and in lieu of my soon to be abolished mistakes… I saw no reason why I should continue to.

Seduced by this extremely attractive notion, I raised my head to meet Kenji's eyes once more, wary but seriously considering the opportunity. To be truthful to a member of my family in regard to my inner turmoil, for the first time in more than six years… it was very tempting. He would not betray my trust and tell Sakura if I asked him not to… I could feel better about my situational standing within my home…

Why shouldn't I?

"No," I said shortly, chuckling lightly at the expression of misgiving and distrust that Kenji immediately employed before shaking my head. "I don't _like_ her, Kenji. I feel much more than just that."

His eyebrows went up in understanding, a look of contented secrecy in his eye as he took a shuffling step closer to me, looking over his shoulder before conspiratorially questioning further.

"So… you _love_ her?" he asked curiously, and, with a sly smirk, I nodded, beckoning him closer to me with a crooked finger. He obliged, wanting to be in on the secret me, and I curled an arm over his shoulder, a feeling of actual, genuine happiness growing in my chest. It felt good to have something to share with my son that was so close to my heart…

"Yes, Kenji. I love Sakura, and have for a great deal of time. Someday, when everything calms down and the time is right, I will tell her… but I want you to promise me something, alright?" I confided, and he nodded immediately, sharing in my joy with a smile equal to my own and clearly happy to help. I hugged him close to me, leaning my forehead against his and locking eyes with him. "I want you to keep this a secret from her. I haven't been very nice to her lately, and if she were to find out that I love her as more than family too soon, she wouldn't be happy with me. Can you do that for me?"

He didn't even bother waiting to think about it, nodding enthusiastically.

"Of course. You can trust me," he assured me, looking back at me with perfect contentment in his gaze, before he pulled away, retreating a small distance but giving me a placating smile to explain away his removal. "I'm always glad to do what you want me to; it makes me feel good to have you proud of me… but I'm _really_ happy that you are talking to me like this, dad. We haven't in a long time."

I was so caught up in his revelation of his pleasure in our conversation that I almost, _almost_ overlooked what he called me. It took a moment, but register it I did, and once I had all I could do was stare, my heart pounding and my throat tight.

Had he just… called me… _dad_?

"Kenji…" I muttered, touched and not lost to the significance of his admition (he had not called me something so familiar in so long that I had begun to think he never would again), and he shot me a boyish grin in response, shrugging.

Wishing to know the reasoning behind the sudden (at least to my mind) change, I had already opened my mouth to voice my thoughts when Roku let out a sudden shout, throwing his arms up and spraying both Kenji and I, the ceiling, and the floor with his cup of juice.

"Daddy, _done_!_" _he shouted, and I sighed before standing and walking over to him, stowing the conversation I _would_ be having with my oldest son away for later.

My curiosity over his rejoinder would not be laid to rest without being assuaged, not to mention I hadn't had time to apologize to him for my earlier harshness.

After releasing Roku from his chair and reprimanding him for making such a mess (he received a stern slap to his hands, a lecture which he mostly ignored, and was consigned to taking a bath with his brother, a task that he found distasteful due to his abhorrence of soap), finishing my now cold dinner and then putting the dishes that had been used for the meal into the dishwasher, I made my wending way to my office to lay in wait for Sakura, seating myself in my favored chair and staring, blank and motionless, into the unlit fireplace.

If I were to be being truthful to myself, I would admit to being anxious. Nerves curled, cold and niggling, in the pit of my stomach as I reclined in eager anticipation of the coming conversation, but I ignored them in favor of planning what I would say when Sakura came to speak with me.

I considered this to be more important than the possibility of everything going wrong, as things had the tendency to do when I did not think my actions through, and with this in mind, I turned my attention away from my consideration of failure and instead looked into what would need to be done for my intent to be reached successfully without being hindered by Sakura's penchant for foiling my goals.

An agreement would need to be made, one of complete and utter absurdity, granted, but an agreement nonetheless. I could offer her the chance of freedom from my overbearing presence in exchange for an evening of posturing and pretending…

I shook my head violently, cringing away from the thought and, without mindful consideration, rising from my chair to rifle through my locked and forcefully neglected wine larder, withdrawing a moment later with a goblet and a bottle of Bordeaux. Pouring myself a generous amount of it, I set the bottle aside and immediately gulped down half the glass, relishing the burn of the ethanol as it drizzled down my throat.

I needed the discomfort… the remembered pain of almost losing Sakura was too much to bear without it.

Sneering at my weakness but unable to release my fingers from the alcohol in my fist, I returned to my seat and went back to my suddenly abandoned considerations, firmly brushing aside what I had been thinking of to make myself so needy of my reluctant but trusted release habit. Nothing so drastic as letting Sakura escape me need be done; I would still demand her presence beside me at the Gala, but in exchange… in exchange…

What did she want that I could give her that equaled my requirement?

I was ashamed to discover that I did not know. Surely she did not require any physical objects; I made sure that she had everything that she wished for in that department. I intended to give myself to her romantic whims of my own volition, so that was not a viable offer I could make… besides the impropriety of such a thing, of course. She would have her life unburdened and unmolested (after a fashion) with this coup, so I could not use those as an enticement…

I could think of nothing, in the seventeen minutes I sat in my office alone, that she could possibly want from me (besides the unmentionable absurdity of letting her leave my home, never to return).

I would have continued to consider it even longer, lost to my thoughts and my confusion over her innermost desires, had Sakura not drawn me from my thoughts with a tentative knock at the door, shocking me due to the abruptness of her appearance and nearly making me drop my unattended goblet.

Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, I started and blinked, belatedly realizing that the time I had intended to spend plotting had been used up without my realizing it. Damn… I wasn't ready for her yet.

Sighing heavily and, while distractedly acknowledging that Sakura was a few minutes behind my prescribed order for her presence, taking a sip of my drink to bolster my inwardly flailing nerves, I cleared my throat and called out to Sakura to enter, my frustration with the ineffectiveness of my devices unintentionally evident in my tone.

I was going to have to wing it, and I _hated_ being unprepared.

Sakura obeyed my annoyed command with clear shyness, her shoulders hunched as she slipped through the door and, with averted eyes, closed it behind her, standing with her back to it and her face scrunched up thereafter, as though waiting for my reprimand for her tardiness.

A temperamental frown lowered my lips at this, as it always did when she showed such obvious discomfiture for my presence, and, with a great deal of hate for the burden but pleasure for it being the last time I needed adopt it, I shrugged into the guise of overbearing dictator that she expected of me, leveling my convenient scowl at her over the rim of my glass before delivering the reprimand that she was clearly anticipating.

"You're _late_."

She flinched at my voice as it permeated the silence that had fallen around us, twisting her fingers together where she had them clenched in front of her, and nervously approached me, her steps measured but edging on flighty; everything in her posture made it clear that she would flee the moment that I made a move to hurt her.

I flinched, within; it hurt more than I could say that she thought I would ever lay a violent hand on her.

True to her body's display, she halted at a reasonably safe distance from my position, meeting my eyes with both deference and hope.

"I'm sorry… I was thinking and lost track of time," she excused quietly, willing me to believe her without punishment, and I bit at the inside of my cheek, stopping myself from dismissing her fears as I wished. The hate I felt for the dread she felt for me and my intentions was all encompassing, but, I reminded myself forcefully, it would all come to an end soon. She would have no need to look on me with anything but love and affection and desire in the future…

As long as I could keep my head for just a little longer.

After stifling my want to absolve her of everything I had ever accused her of by drowning the words on my tongue with another hurried gulp of wine, I motioned to the chair beside mine, separated only by a side table with a reading lamp and a few coasters on it.

"It is quite alright. Sit," I said in response, looking on her confusion for my mildness with expectant indulgence. She had clearly not expected me to accept her excuse… had she been lying?

Shoving aside the curiosity that surfaced at this consideration (what else could she have been doing that would occupy her if not what she had claimed?), I looked on as she took the offered seat with hesitance and caution, balancing on the barest edge of the cushion that she could manage without falling off, still ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

Sighing to myself but sure that I could do little to assuage her hesitance at the moment, I set my goblet to the side and leaned my elbows on my knees, folding my fingertips together and propping my chin on them while gazing over at Sakura speculatively.

As Kisame had taken to saying during his phase of obsession with aircraft… it was "go time".

"Now," I began, conveying my seriousness to her with maintained eye contact. "I believe that we are long overdue for a discussion over your behavior these past few months."

I had been careful to be as civil and gentle as could be, so she would not be alarmed by the direction of the conversation I intended to have with her, but she tensed anyway, her frame locking down and her gaze doing a nose dive to the paneled flooring beneath her feet, mortification and blatant, outright terror in her eyes.

My throat tightened at this display, dismay and regret sinking poisonous claws into my chest and, in effect, making breathing normally an impossibility. She had no need to be so afraid of me, not when I had no intention of ever bringing her the harm that she clearly expected to suffer at my hand (how had things deteriorated this far? I had never threatened her with physical harm… why would she think so lowly of me?), but I suppose I couldn't fault her for her thoughts.

I had never told her that there was a point beyond which I would not go in regards to discipline…

She wouldn't have to fear even the most mundane of punishments from me for much longer, however, and I contented myself with this argument while I outwardly shook my head at her behavior, waving her worry aside as carelessly as she would expect of me.

"Please relax. I have no intention of delivering any judgments until we have come to an understanding," I stated with little care, detaching myself from the situation purposefully. I anticipated that this would help her be at ease, help her get comfortable and listen, but was rewarded with confusion and suspicion instead. The misgiving was natural, expected even…

The puzzlement was not.

I tilted my head slightly as she muttered an acquiescence to my insistence, sitting back in her chair and swinging her legs in a facsimile of relaxation (her stature did not allow her feet to reach all the way to the floor when completely reclined, something that I had observed before and found distinctly amusing), but despite her façade, she remained stiff and braced, in wait.

Resisting the urge to abscond with her own habit and roll my eyes, I forced my head into a nod of acknowledgement for her acquiescence to my calming suggestion and went on, eager to get to the point.

I had waited so long to have this communion with her that I was actually impatient.

"It has come to my attention of late that you have a very large capability to be quite immature. I understand why this is; when your parents passed away you were forced to grow up quickly and never really got the chance to be a child, and now that you are with children you have the chance to be," I allowed, my own personal philosophy on her sometimes childlike ideals making its way into my suppositions, and from the chagrined pull of her lips, I was correct in my assumption.

Heh… that was quite cute, in reality.

"I can see how this would be a tempting distraction from your duties, but the unfortunate fact of the matter is that you are an adult and there is no room for such actions," I finished, forcing myself to look away from her and over to one of my overcrowded bookshelves so I wouldn't immediately correct my speech and make my apologies, brushing a too long strand of my bangs back behind my ear when it swept in front of my eyes distractingly (I needed to get them cut soon…).

While it was true that she was a grown woman and had responsibilities, I did not truly care that she acted half her age when at play with my children. I had watched the three of them with the contentment that only a whole, content family can bring more times than I can count, and it brought me great pleasure to see Sakura so happy and free.

When my plans came to fruition, ending with my taking her hand in marriage and gifting her with a child of her own, would she be happier still?

But I was getting off track. I was trying to make a point, moot and illogical though it was, and needed to concentrate. I knew this, and that I would need to be convincing in my argument for my plans to move along in a timely and irrefutable fashion, but no matter what I told myself about the need to remain firm and aloof, the pain of lying to the one I had hoped to always be truthful with was extreme and debilitating. I took comfort only in the impending end to my charade, and with this in mind, I was able to press on.

"I was unsure as to how to deal with this at first, and came to the conclusion that if you were going to act the part of a child, then it would be appropriate to acknowledge you as one as well. This has served to make both of us unhappy," I expounded, still gazing determinately at the shelf of books that concealed one of my firearms, and from beside me, the sound of fidgeting stilled, Sakura's full attention drawn to the fact that I was, for the first time in months, discussing my treatment of her.

Smirking within at the riveted attention I was receiving, I went on, concentrating on the spine of a particular book (I did not recall ever purchasing, or even reading, War and Peace… what was it doing there?) as I was unable to bring myself to meet Sakura's eyes.

"On your side, I can see that being seen as a youth is embarrassing, insulting, and humiliating. On my side, not being able to hold you on the same level as I am at has left me little to no opportunities to have civilized conversations, and castigating a person only nine years my junior gives me no real pleasure," I admitted, only barely repressing a shudder at my words, and crossed one quiescent leg across the other in an attempt to ground myself in reality.

Such thoughts had come to me before, concerning some of the things I foisted on Sakura without real reason or conscience; thoughts far more sexual than were proper. I was not the sort of person that typically strayed from the more mundane paths of intercourse, perfectly happy to be having sex at all, but as a younger man I had been adventurous and had, at one time, "dated" a girl that had been _very_ into being dominated.

Naturally, to my diseased and filthy mind, the things that I had learned with that woman were entirely applicable to my current situation with my innocent, friable sister in law, and visions of Sakura submitting to my desires, playfully begging for mercy as I laid my hand to her rear end in punishment, or allowing me to control her in every way sexually possible plagued me more often that I liked to admit.

I could not afford to think like that, for the sake of my sanity; this was only one of the many reasons that my behavior these past months needed to stop, each as important and demanding as the last, though I will admit to it being one of the foremost. I was sick and twisted, a creature to be shunned and not pitied, and the sooner such opportunistic theory was put away for good, the better.

Cowed and desperate to change the subject before I started thinking too deeply about how Sakura felt about BDSM, I pressed on, taking a deep draw from my wine to bolster my strength and drive away my demons.

"As such, I would like to remedy this. If we can find a way to balance out your childish tendencies and your duties as a caretaker at the same time, then I see no need to continue to regard you so basely and we can go back to how things were before," I offered, finally turning back to Sakura so I could gage her reaction to my contract, and was surprised by the eagerness I was met with. Was she really so keen to once again be within my equal regard (despite the fact that she had never left it)?

Curious and innately interested by Sakura's rapt attention, I finished my spiel, closely inspecting her as I spoke words of threat that I would never act upon.

"However, if we cannot, then I do not know what else to do but continue on with how we have been progressing. It is distasteful and appalling, but without order there can be no peace," I forced out, cringing away from really thinking about what I had just said (don't consider it… don't give in…), and Sakura immediately nodded her head, her cheeks paling (in reaction to my bullying, no doubt) but her enthusiasm never wavering.

"I want to be able to be your friend again, Itachi. I want a chance to prove to you that I can live up to your expectations of me and gain your trust again," she explained quickly, something like desperation in her words, and I froze in place, looking over her face, thinking over her claim, and wondering, once again, at her anxiety (was she truly so disturbed by what I had been forcing on her for so long? She had not shown it, if this was true. Perhaps there was something else worrying her that she did not wish to be brought to light… but it was most likely my imagination).

I had been searching for something to give her in return for being forced to attend the Gala at my side, something that she desired that she did not already have, and this seemed as royal an opportunity as any. Her place as my closest and most trusted friend had never wavered, even if she clearly (and with good reason) thought that it had, and though it made me slightly uncomfortable to take advantage of her as I was, I accepted her unknowing terms and gave an outwardly considering look to my waiting companion, tilting my head in apparent contemplation.

Being just her _friend_ was not what I had in mind, but she had no need to become aware of that at this time.

"That is all that you ask? One chance?" I asked carefully, already anticipating her answer, and when she nodded quickly in response, leaning forward in her seat, I allowed the victorious smirk that had been begging to be released all evening dominance of my expression, satisfied and crowing with pleasure over my successful plotting.

Everything was going right, for once, and I was very, _very_ happy about that.

"Very well… I think that I can accommodate that. You have requested an opportunity to redeem yourself in my eyes, and you shall have it. You will accompany me to the Memorandum Gala at the end of this month, and should you perform adequately, all will be forgiven," I demanded of her, folding my hands together on top of my crossed leg, and Sakura's eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback by the direction of my thoughts. Something flashed in her eyes briefly, something that spoke of hope and longing, and I was disarmed.

What did _that_ mean?

"Itachi… are you serious? This is a big deal…" she stammered after struggling with her words silently for a moment, wishing for my reasoning in offering her something that she felt mysterious feelings for, and I sat inert for a moment, mulling over what she could be feeling in response to what I was propositioning.

Was it possible that she had been hoping to attend the Gala with me, or that she was happy to have been invited by me?

Intrigued by the possibility but cautious of denial, I forced a put upon sigh and hid my curiosity behind my glass of wine, sipping at it pensively to elongate the moment. If I asked her what I was wondering, I was sure that she would suspect something. But if I manipulated the conversation in a way that she would be forced to react to, then I could gage how she was feeling without asking.

Feeling somewhat immoral but determined to discover what she meant by her behavior, I put my goblet back down and sent Sakura a resigned looking frown, inwardly watching her every reaction sharply.

"I know it is. I wouldn't drag you into it at all, but I went alone last year and the Superintendent General formally reprimanded me for it and told me that if I didn't bring an escort this year, he would personally invade on my love life," I explained, aloof and uncaring, before churlishly going in for the kill, waving a hand through the air in an indifferent manner as I spoke. "I would prefer to avoid such a thing and I thought that, instead of asking some poor woman to go with me and getting her hopes for a future with me up, I would take you and avoid that entirely."

Rejected pain lanced through Sakura's eyes the moment the words had left my lips (my chest ached regretfully in response), her body crumbling in on itself and her enthusiasm draining away, and with her regression, I had my answer, as unhappily and cruelly it had been obtained notwithstanding.

She had thought I was asking her because of a desire to have her at my side, not because of a wish to avoid asking another woman in her place, and was disappointed by my disinterest in her.

I smirked to myself, unseen and gloating, while Sakura wallowed in her momentary melancholy. She would be very surprised, then, when I began to act out of character for the role she now saw me in. She would not see why I was reveling in touching her, as I just wanted someone by my side for appearances. She would not suspect that the adulation I gifted to her would be how I truly felt, thinking it was all a sham.

She would not think that I loved her before it was the right time to tell her.

Everything was falling perfectly into place, Sakura's wish for my attentions all too convenient (and very well received), and I looked on the night of the Gala, for the first time in my life, with anticipation rather than antipathy. There were two weeks yet to be forded between now and then, a difficulty that I wished an early grave to, but when the evening of the event came… when I _finally_ had her all to myself, free to do as I had been desiring to for far too long under the cover of pretense…

I would finally know what it would feel like be with her, in the least physical sense possible at least, and I was assured of my happiness in that position.

I allowed myself a small chuckle before hiding away my contentment, regaining my trademark stoicism in the face of Sakura's gloom (she had looked back up at me after a few moments of self-pitying). It would not do to give myself away when things were going according to plan, after all.

In the wake of her dejection, Sakura sent me a small smile, though it remained redolent of her former sadness."That sounds like a good idea, Itachi," she congratulated, though it was obvious that she did not mean it (if I could take anything from the false and overplayed cheer in her tone), and I snorted, within.

She need not be so offended…

I knew that she was not aware of my designs, but it was not as though she would have felt better for me taking a different woman altogether (I shuddered, slightly put off; as though another woman could entice me) or would have appreciated my making light of her feelings for me by blandly announcing that I had already known of her infatuation with my person.

No, it was better that she hurt a little, for a short time, than to be truly harmed.

"It's settled then," I claimed, an attempt to move her along from her glumness; I had deemed her unhappiness necessary, but did not like it in the least, and did not want her to dwell on it for too long. I would need to provide a distraction for her, though, and as such thought through the information I possessed on the night we spoke of.

She would want to know the details of our plans, always one for preparation in advance, and while I wasn't fully able to divulge all of my intentions just yet (as I had not thought them out in fullness myself), I could give her something to mull over while I pulled all the loose ends together... perhaps the dress code.

She would need much time and due diligence to find a dress now, so late in the season; it was time for all of the regional High School Promenades, and this detail, along with the ladies attending the Gala itself needing their own gowns, would limit her options drastically. She would be hard pressed to find anything appropriate…

Perfect.

"Now, you have two weeks to find yourself a suitable dress for the Gala. The theme is, as I've been told, purple and silver, but you don't have to wear either if you wish not to. I would ask you to inform me which color and shade you chose before the night of so that we will be able to match, however," I informed her, pleased with my distraction technique, and Sakura sat upright once more, nodding dutifully in response to my direction.

She retained her false, put up smile though, the pain in her gaze merely deepening the longer she was held beneath my gaze, so I abandoned my attempt to pacify her. She wished, clearly, for nothing more than to go and study her findings in her own company, and I would allow that. She had much to think on, and if I were in her shoes, I would want the same thing.

"That is all I have to speak with you about, so unless you want to stay and talk about something else, we are done and you can leave whenever you wish," I relayed blandly, waving an excusing hand at her dismissively, and, as I watched from the corner of my eye, her relief was immediate, standing and moving away from me so quickly that it almost seemed rude.

"Thank you very much for this opportunity. Have a good evening," Sakura said stiffly once she had reached the door leading out of the room, almost as though forcing herself to speak, and then swept through it in a frenzied rush, leaving empty air and unanswered questions in her wake.

The door clicked closed behind her, leaving me alone with my considerations once more, but I disliked the bitter taste that remained on my tongue following my manipulations, no longer desiring to be alone in my own company.

Glancing balefully at the glass of wine in my hand for a moment, considering finishing it before judging it undesirable, dumping the rest of its contents in the potted plant to the left of my chair, and then standing, I walked from the room with the intent to spend the rest of the evening putting together a fitting plan for the night of the Gala, playing with my sons, and wondering, with the largest part of my mind, what kind of dress that Sakura would choose to accompany me in.

* * *

My last thought would become an unanswered obsession in the thirteen days after that evening.

Sakura and I remained in steady contact following our discourse, spending, at times, hours discussing trivialities regarding the upcoming ball, and I will admit to being guided out of many tight spots in the preparations for the event with Sakura's help.

She aided me in almost all the last minute decisions, such as who would sit where, whether or not we should put a velvet rope around the orchestra, and even helped me ford a dispute that sprang up between the Special Forces Commander in Los Angeles and the Police Commissioner of Fort Lauderdale, the petty argument over parking spaces almost making me pull my hair out.

We talked of everything that could be discussed about the Gala: what was being served and who was coming and what time this would happen and where that was going to be put, what I was supposed to do as the host and how she was going to be expected to act as my partner.

We discussed the different kinds of dances that would be performed, how much the lowest bid for the charity pool was, and why Denver's Chief of Police had tattoos on his face (Kiba Inuzuka was a very good man, upright and as loyal as the dogs he trained for the force, but had a weakness for parties and cheap beer and had woken up one morning, following a lively revelry, with permanent red triangles etched into his cheeks).

We even made time for plotting our upcoming farce together, detailing why I expected her to stick close to me at all times, how she was to accept any of the endearments or advances I made on her without denial, and why she should not fear to physically cling to me if she felt like she needed to.

I had come up with a plan that involved Sakura adopting the guise of my very recently established girlfriend, and she was to act as in love as she could manage; I put special emphasis on the necessity of her making her affection for me obvious, as we had to fool Nagato and assuage my ferociously disabling expectations in the same motion.

What never came up, though, not once, not even in an _aside_, was what she had chosen to wear.

It was starting to make me slightly eccentric, not knowing. I was far too prideful to ask outright, and refused to invade her privacy by rifling through her closet (I had infringed on her confidentiality enough already, reading her personal papers and forcing her to live with me by themselves enough cause for concern), but I caught myself, multiple times a day, wondering about it.

She had shown me the scarf that had come with the dress that she had chosen so I would be aware of the color (a rich plum that I could already imagine held against her skin), and had told me that she had bought the gown from Bloomingdale's (I approved of her tastes in finery, though I would have liked very much to have had the dress designed especially for her if there had been the time), even going so far as to give me the receipt from her transaction (a costly indulgence it had proven, to be sure; I was not worried about that in particular, even though I had insisted she buy the garment with one of my credit cards instead of her own money, merely interested to know what she had found that had cost sixty-five hundred dollars), but I had no idea what it looked like, or what she would have picked with my expectations in mind.

Would she cover herself as much as possible, or dare to tempt me with a revealing cut? Would she favor clinging style, or flowing grace? Would she have chosen silk or satin? Would she be adorned in jewels, or left bare?

It was never ending, my contemplations of the unknown. I remembered vividly her wedding gown, the prom dresses she had donned for Sasuke's benefit, the ensembles she had worn for parties and outings and her graduation, and recalled admiring them all (along with the body beneath them) with injudicious appraisal, but I was rabid in my fixation on the subject of this garment in particular; _this_ dress she would be wearing for _me,_ the first of many more, I hoped, and I would not be calmed until I saw her wearing it.

It may be a wonderment to most, my fascination with something so simple and with such little consequence… but to me, this was _everything_, the culmination of six and a half years of denial and waiting and suffering and hoping and loving, and I felt, personally, that I was entitled to my impatience.

It came to the point that I almost, _almost_ demanded to see it, but I forced myself to hold my tongue and let Sakura have her secrecy. The time was almost upon us, the night of my first real move in this game of cloak and dagger drawing ever nearer despite feeling as though I was holding in my breath while awaiting it, and I needed only to be patient.

Right.

But despite my depressing annotations, the eve of the Gala did finally come, and found me driving back from my parent's home in giddy expectation, forcibly still so that I would not crease my tuxedo but almost eager enough to be hopping on the spot.

I was on the return circuit from dropping off my children (they would have been welcome at the ball, but I knew they would have been bored out of their minds, so I had not insisted that they come) and knew, when I finally made it back to my home, that Sakura would be waiting for me (I had instructed her to await my return in the lobby of the building, a maneuver used to shorten the time I would have to wait before I saw her), dressed and made up and undoubtedly gorgeous.

I have never cursed as much in my life as I did at the other drivers sharing the road with me that evening.

At the intersection of Broadway and West 49th, only a block from my apartment building, my phone rang, interrupting me from my distracted consideration of the dented bumper of the car before me (I was actually thinking, of course, about what Sakura looked like in her ball gown, my impatience on the subject almost too much to bear), and I answered it absentmindedly, tapping the fingers of my free hand on the steering wheel in my grasp irritably.

"Hello?" I queried with unconscious sharpness, not bothering to have looked at the caller ID before picking up the call and caring little for who it was, and from the other end, I heard a youth's laughter in the distance, accompanied by the sound of a woman's chiding, before a man's voice answered me.

"_Well_, _hello to you too. Somebody scratch your car?" _was the antagonistic reply I received, the man's jibe making it clear that he was aware of my discontent, and just from that I knew who I was speaking to, a cold jolt of remembrance shooting up my spine and making me instantly both wary and aggravated.

Nagato…

I had taken just about all I could of him and his coercion; he had spent most of the past three months terrorizing me, reminding me over and over that he would be looking into the validity of my claim to be dating Sakura this evening, and it would be an understatement to say that I was annoyed, almost to the end of my patience. If I had not been so intimidated by the punishment he was threatening me with (personally invading on my endeavor in wooing Sakura to my side), I would have told him to back off in an overly implicit and vulgar manner, but the truth of the matter was that I feared his interference almost as much as I dreaded Sakura's desire to strike out on her own.

The space between the rock and the hard place was as difficult to ford as metaphor claimed.

"No, I am merely stuck in traffic and dislike the impediment. Was there something that you wanted, or am I merely a source of entertainment for the moment? Surely you have better things to do than rile me," I informed my superior blandly, playing off interest and gazing dispassionately after the pedestrians blocking the way of continuing traffic but, within, electrically aware of every breath I could hear him take, and Nagato chuckled in my ear.

"_You know better than that, Itachi… I __**never**__ have things better to do than bother you. But yes, I did call with a purpose, since you insist on being so serious all the time_… _I received a last minute notification from Chief Nara; something has come up very urgently in Seattle and he had to leave a few hours ago to take care of it himself. He told me to apologize to you for the inconvenience,"_ Nagato informed me nonchalantly, surprising me with the innocence of his reason for calling.

I had thought that he would be calling to remind me of his suspicion of my and Sakura's "relationship"…

"Oh. Well, that certainly is a disappointment... Shikamaru is always good company, and his wife never fails to be the life of the party. Temari enjoys gatherings such as these almost as much as Chief Inuzuka. I had been looking forward to speaking with him, actually; intellectual conversation is hard to come by," I speculated vaguely, staring into space and picking at a speck of something on my shirt sleeve, almost daring to be relieved that I wasn't being threatened for the first time in three months, and my superior huffed in agreement, something he was doing, presumably typing, making a repeated clacking noise.

"_Very true. I should have liked to hear how the Kimimaro incident turned out; I read the report, but it was very sparse on detail. I will be going up to Washington soon for a conference, though, so I suppose I'll just ask him about it then,"_ my conversation partner lamented, clearly put out, and I, cast adrift, did something very stupid.

I relaxed.

"Was that really why you called? You could have told me that at the Gala," I said with relief, letting myself unwind for the first time since I had registered who was on the other end of the phone, and I could almost see Nagato's verbal shrug.

"_Pretty much. I would have waited, but I was hoping you could assign Shikamaru's plate to my son; no sense in wasting perfectly good, if a little bit expensive, food, and I have found myself in need of bringing the boy with me. Kushina's husband is going to be late getting back from the airport, and she can't handle watching both my son and daughter in her condition. She's due in two weeks, you know,"_ he informed me, tone both bald and intrinsic, and I calmed even further, looking with hope on the evening ahead even more than I had been.

Perhaps he had forgotten about his prying…

"That is not a hardship; I will be arriving early, so I will just have the caterers change the seating enough to fit Yahiko beside you and Konan. You will give your sister and Governor Namikaze my congratulations, won't you? They are fine parents, and have raised three beautiful children with aplomb," I urged, feeling magnanimous (I neglected to mention the fact that the spoken of couple's eldest son was a nearly insufferable dolt, swayed into politeness by the draw of the moment as I normally would not be), and even let someone into the lane in front of me in my benevolent humor, waving at them for good measure.

"_Of course. They deserve commendation, and will appreciate it, coming from you. And thank you, by the way; I was worried that he would not get enough to eat if he had to share with Konan and I. The boy is a bottomless pit, you know… I wonder at times where he puts it all. I am detracting from your concentration while driving, though… I will leave you in peace,"_ Nagato allowed, thoughtful and considerate, and even though I knew that these things were far from his true character, I overlooked them, waving aside the worry that niggled at the back of my mind, warning me not to be a fool.

"Thank you. I will see you later tonight," I responded, feeling better than I have about my situation in a very long time, and made to end the call. Nagato called out to me, though, drawing my attention back to him, and I listened with attentive rapport.

"_Oh, and Itachi…" _he was saying when I brought my phone back to my ear, something in his voice sounding… cynical. "_Please don't be so trusting; it belittles your instincts. Did you really think I had forgotten? You will not escape my scrutiny as easily as that, as you surely knew."_

My good mood evaporated in the instant that I grasped what he meant, my grimace resurfacing through the ease of my previous affluence.

_Damn_ it all…

"I dared to hope, for a moment, that you were a decent human being and were prepared to leave me to my own counsel. But I thought too much of you. Well? You are clearly intending to deliver another warning to me; go on," I said sarcastically, not caring that I sounded like a petulant child as I honked my horn angrily at a taxi that tried to cut me off, and when he replied, Nagato's voice had a hard quality to it, making it obvious that he did not appreciate my attitude.

"_Don't be immature. You can only blame yourself for this, and are old enough to understand your responsibilities and how your actions affect others. Now, if you're done being a child, make sure that you are ready to impress me with your performance this evening, and that Sakura is as well. I will be watching you both closely tonight, and will want to speak to her about your relationship, without your interference, at a time of my choosing. You would do well not to stand in my way when I do,"_ he snapped at me, clearly exasperated and short on temper, and my blood froze into icicles as I clutched my phone to my ear, my throat closing over and my eyes wide.

He wanted to talk to her… _alone_?

That had not been a part of my plans. When I had been setting up for tonight, fine tuning my strategy to exclude any possible flaws, I had been hinging on Nagato either keeping his distance to observe us from afar or speaking to the both of us, a united front where I would be able to, largely, speak for Sakura. I had conducted Sakura's behavior in this manner for weeks, but now, to discover that he intended to negate all my efforts entirely…

We would be found out within seconds.

I should have known that he would plot something like this. He knew me too well, my reactions and my thought processes both, and would have seen that I would be prepared to take him head on with her at my side. I was a proficient liar and, at least in my own opinion, a suitably competent actor; I could have deceived Nagato if pressed, as I was sure to be. Sakura would only have needed to mutter allowances to my claims while with me, keeping to her charade of being unbelievably introverted and reticent while I did all the heavy lifting, and we would have been in the clear.

All by herself, though, Sakura was as honest and straightforward in character as it was plausible to be. It was a quality that I loved about her; her transparent rectitude and lack of skill in subterfuge were to her moral credit, and made interpreting her actions all too easy. This would make her useless when push came to shove, however, and her ineffective lies would prove to be our downfall if I allowed Nagato his demand.

I did not know if he was aware of her inability to be misleading, but he was clearly hopeful of his maneuver revealing _something_. But above all, if he found out that we were not together when alone with Sakura, he might let something slip that I was not ready to have divulged.

I could not allow them to be alone together.

This would mean doubling my vigilance this evening, never letting Sakura move more than a few inches from my side and keeping constant watch to forestall my boss's intent, but I was amiable to these changes, at least as far as Sakura was concerned; she would be forced to stay near me at all times, clinging to me as tightly as I could make her, and I gained unrighteous but contented pleasure from this welcome news.

I was a selfish creature, after all, and my appetite for Sakura would never be entirely fulfilled, not even when she was, at long last, bound to me in matrimony and had conceived her much desired child with me.

I needed to be careful, though; I could not clue him in to my resolution. If Nagato were to suspect that I was not going to even once let Sakura's arm leave mine for the entirety of the night, he would change his own plans, and I would be left out of the loop. I hated being outside the circle of knowledge when it concerned me, and staying within it tonight was imperative to the longevity of my relationship with Sakura.

Success was not an option; it was a necessity.

"Very well… I can see that it is useless to fight you in this. When the time comes, I will step aside," I lied without remorse, finally pulling up in front of my apartment building and parking in front of a long, sleek town car that was already waiting there, and through the speaker, I heard Nagato snort derisively, skeptical.

"_You act like I believe you would make it that easy for me. Have your plan for resistance if you wish… it will not stand against me. Now, I really am going to let you go; Konan is insisting my hair is not fit for the public,"_ he told me offhandedly, and I scoffed, uncaring of the suffering he was about to endure at his wife's hands.

"Tch… as though she could tame that mane any better than you can," I retorted, tetchy and sardonic, and then rudely hung up on him, throwing my phone away from me and into the backseat moodily at the same time as I flung my seatbelt off temperamentally.

Mood dark and countenance livid, I stormed from my vehicle and over to the sidewalk (flipping off a car that swerved too close to me in the process) and then progressed to pace away my discontent in front of my car, determined not to show my temper to Sakura tonight, all the while pridefully ignoring the interested looks I was receiving from the chauffer of the car behind me.

I wanted this evening to be unforgettable, the first of many steps in the right direction for Sakura and me, and if I went to her in ire, she would be frightened and dwell too deeply on the fact that I had threatened her to get her to come with me tonight in the first place.

I breathed deeply in an attempt to calm myself, clenching and unclenching my fists and employing the use of every curse that I knew (beneath my breath; I might be a New Yorker, but I was a gentleman too), until I was restrained enough to gather my bearings and slow to a stop in front of my passenger side car door, smoothing a careful and fulsome hand down the front of my tuxedo and looking into the reflective surface of the window before me to ascertain that my hair was not mussed and my tie was straight.

I would allow no malfunction on my part in the evening to come.

It was as I was reaching up to prod vainly with the part of my bangs, closely inspecting the strands for both evenness and symmetry, that I was hailed.

"You sly dog."

My eyebrows rose in surprise at the abrupt and unexpected title I had been given, having never before been referred to by such a term, and I turned from my car window to meet the gaze of my next floor neighbor, Mitsuki Shizuka staring up at me with fierce and unconcealed approval.

I was cast adrift as to why I should be receiving such a look, thinking of nothing I could have done to the respectable lady that would warrant such accusation, and said as much, lowering my hands from their former grooming.

"I apologize, Shizuka-sama… but I do not take your meaning. Have I displeased you?" I queried, carefully polite just in case I was mistaken in her demeanor and she was actually angry with me, and she scoffed, waving an elegant hand in dismissal and then pointing her walking stick at me.

"No, boy… you have made an old woman very, very proud. You've finally manned up, and the results could not have been more stunning," she congratulated, jabbing her cane into the sidewalk to reinforce her point, and I furrowed my formerly raised eyebrows.

She was speaking in riddle again.

My nosy but respected benefactor had been acting in such a manner from the moment that Sakura had moved in more than a year past, sending snide remarks and poignant entendre my way every time that she could, but I could not make sense of what she was trying to tell me. The most that I could supposition was that she was attempting to clue me in to something regarding Sakura, perhaps the fact that she was aware of my designs on the young woman, but if she knew, she would have told me.

I was fairly certain, anyway.

I was growing weary of talking in circles with her though, as amiable and forthcoming as I usually was with her notwithstanding, and folded my arms across my chest firmly, mindfully keeping from pressing any wrinkles into my jacket (I had a long night ahead of me; it would not do to mess up my appearance before I even arrived at the venue) as I did so.

"Shizuka-sama, is there something that you are trying to tell me, or am I simply too dense to understand you?" I asked forcefully, allowing no escape with my words and body both, but she just laughed at me, tapping past me and to the opened door of the town car that was waiting for her on the curb.

"Of course you are being dense. It is in your nature to be. But don't you worry about the eccentricities of an old woman… you have someone expecting you, and if I hear that you've kept that beautiful young lady waiting, I'll box you around your ears," she threatened happily, tottering around to send me a playful wave of a clenched fist, and then smiled at me softly, nodding placating. "Make that girl happy, Itachi-san. She deserves it, with all that she's gone through."

I stared at her silently for a moment, taken aback by her direction, but then returned her grin with one of my own, unfolding my arms and nodding back.

"I intend to," I assured her, contentment and anticipation burbling in my stomach all at once as I thought on my plans for the evening, and the old woman poked her cane at me again in response, cackling her way through the soft moment.

"You'd better! I'll hear about it if you don't; Sakura-chan and I share tea regularly, and she speaks of you more often than anything else. Now be on your way, boy! I've got places to be, and so do you!" she declared, ecstatic in her meddling, and waved me away with a regal hand, indicating the front doors of the building with aplomb and vigor.

I was not witness to her getting into her car, as I was already obeying her direction and hastening to my love's side, dwelling gleefully on the acclaim I had just received (so Sakura spoke of me in covert company, certain of my not hearing of her words due to the secrecy and confidence that females shared… this was most pleasing).

The stretch of sidewalk between me and the doors seemed much larger than usual, an eternity of space and time that I did not recall being there before, but after struggling through the difficulty that my anxious expectation elicited, I finally reached the entrances, pulled one of them open, and was met with a sight more deeply moving and magnificent than I can accurately describe.

I have never beheld such beauty as Sakura in my entire _life_.

I almost did not recognize her in her grandeur and finery, very nearly passing her off as a fallen angel. She looked otherworldly, beyond commendable depiction; she stood with confidence yet reticence, strength yet softness, stalwart elegance yet perilous majesty… I was at a loss for how to proceed, what to believe in, who I was, only managing to think, at the moment, of meaningless drivel such as my sudden desire to worship the ground she walked on and a half formed compliment that would, without doubt, have come out as a garbled mess.

It was clear to me, suddenly, why females were so often in control of their species… they were capable of leaving their males destitute of any real thoughts with their form alone, saying nothing of when they were _trying_ to be alluring.

I could do nothing more than stare for a long, unending moment, barely registering the fact that a man, unknown at this point, was taken a step away from as I stood gaping unabashedly, or that Sakura looked to the ground with mortification following her movement. All that mattered to me, at the time, was her existence in my world.

Outside influence was superfluous and redundant.

She wore a natural blush on her lightly powdered cheeks, her lips painted a lavender that became her with reverence and her lids darkened with a lilac shadow that only highlighted the emerald of her gaze. Her hair, ironed into soft falls and neat ringlets and flowing eddies, hung long and unfettered around shy eyes, bared shoulders, and an at the moment invisible back, and around her neck draped a strand of lustrous, glistening white stones, cresting the rise of her clavicles and then dipping down her chest, ending with a pendant that rested at the apex of almost visible cleavage, the bare inch of the fullness of her breasts she exposed too much, yet not enough.

The dress itself was a masterwork of violet fabrics and shining gems, the jewel studded bodice tight against her torso until the waist, where it flared into a skirt both full and yet gracefully sophisticated, ending in curtains of concealing material surrounding heel clad, painted toes. Her arms and hands were left bare (even her wedding ring had been left off, a necessity required for the success of our plot), her luminescent skin putting the glow of the moon to shame, and when I had finished my inspection of her, as satisfied with my perusal as I could be at the moment (I would have been happy to stare at her in abject silence for the rest of my life), I was so stirred that I could not even manage to procure a full inkling in my stupor, much less a lustful or ill-mannered thought process.

I had resolved to myself, earlier in the day, not to think unbefittingly of Sakura tonight, as I wanted no more difficulty in our evening than was required and desired to give to her my best without restriction, but had suppositioned that it would be an arduous task, difficult to bear and trying in its temptation. Now, as I looked on the full brunt of the woman who would be accompanying me, her radiance putting to disgrace anything else in existence, I came to the conclusion that it would not be a hardship at all.

Her beauty was above that of a master's finest work, and should be appreciated just as deferentially; to look with anything less than pious distinction on so magnificent a creature as she was to defile the purity of holy, consecrated virtue, a sin even the most dishonorable of criminals would shun committing.

I was aware that I could not simply stand here staring at her all night despite my desire to do so, though, time ticking by that was needed for last minute preparations at City Hall for the night ahead of us, and thus broke as best I could from my distraction to take a step inside of the building and then walk across the lobby to where Sakura stood, looking pointedly away from her so that I could concentrate on where I was going and what I needed to be doing and why I should even continue breathing.

It is unfortunate that the first thing I saw was the doorman, because looking on Sasori's pridefully averted visage reminded me of the scene I had witnessed upon entering the building before being distracted by Sakura's radiance, the view I had caught of his hands clasping her close to his body and his mouth pressing against her cheek, far too close to her own lips, instantly making my gaze a film of invidious, virulent hatred.

One of these days I was going to be provoked beyond my ability to restrain myself by him, and would, admittedly without regret, be forced to rearrange his face.

True to his proposed agreement with my sister in law, Sasori had not made any determined romantic advances on Sakura in the year that she had lived with me, keeping within the boundaries of his promised platonic relationship without visible complaint… but his behavior had become questionable of late.

Over the past few months he had been making his attention to the depth of Sakura's attraction all too obvious, clearly not blind to the fact that she was, slowly but surely, overcoming her sorrow over the loss of her husband, and was readying to make his first move.

Over my dead _body_.

I had deemed the subject unworthy of my attention multiple times, determined to let Sakura have her friendship with the man despite my reservations over his intentions for her, but in the face of Sasori's surprisingly adamant diligence and stalwart doggedness, I found myself bristling every time I even looked at the shrewd doorman.

I had never before been faced with a foe in romance, always guaranteed my pick of women through my social standing, monetary influence and outward appearance, but Sakura was not like to the stereotypical female mindset in this manner; she would not care that her partner was rich, or well known, or gifted with great stores of good looks. She would look beyond those things, to the heart of the man she chose to be with, and it was in this manner of consideration that I was stunted.

I knew that I was not a good man, not in the way of my private dealings in any case. I might be an upright and outstanding citizen, charitable and lawful and well reputed, but behind closed doors, I was not to be admired. I had been unfaithful to my spouse, damaging and cruel to my offspring, remorselessly lascivious to my brother's wife, and secretive with my thoughts when I should have come forward and manned up, taken responsibility.

I was a coward, a scoundrel and a hypocrite, and if I hadn't taken such great steps to hide these things from her sight, I knew that Sakura would have, long ago, turned from me in disgust.

It would have been less than I deserved.

But the truth of the matter was that I had, indeed, secreted away my inner quandaries, and as such had hampered my own influence on the romantic playing field. I had locked away my true feelings behind walls of ice for so long, pretending disinterest in Sakura so that no harm would come from my infatuation, and now she had no idea that I felt for her, thus having only her own emotions to work with. She would assume herself to be alone in her love, unwelcome in my sight, and might, perhaps, turn to another who had given himself out to her without reproach, making it clear that he felt for her and wished to be connected to her in every manner, both heart and body.

To be so undermined and hindered when fighting for the love of my life, though I could blame no one but myself for the encumberment, was bothersome to say the least.

That I meant to put an end to my distance from her was to my credit, as I knew that Sakura cared for me and would be encouraged when I began to give her positive feedback, but Sasori already had a lot of ground on me, having been persistently paving a path through her loneliness and sadness from the moment that she had moved into my apartment. He was playing smart, aiming for the long haul and planning very carefully so that when the time came, he would be well within his rights to make his move, and if I hadn't been his opposition, I might have been impressed by his cunning.

I would have to work diligently (and pay close enough attention to his interactions with Sakura to be able to thwart any attempted advances on his part) to regain lost time if I hoped to surpass him.

My jaw clenched in terrible, compulsory restraint as I forcibly kept my steps even and calm and my expression blank, setting my ruminations to the side in favor of getting Sakura away from Sasori that much quicker; I could not afford to lose my temper. Despite my desire to bodily shove the man away from my intended and warn him, with every ounce of venom that I possessed, to stay away from her if he valued his life, this was not an option at the moment.

Even if I sent Sakura away before I voiced my discrepancies with his behavior he might, in his bitterness over being spurned, reveal to Sakura my intent, and completely ruin my every effort. I would simply have to allow him his "friendship" with her for now and watch closely from afar.

The phrase "grin and bear it" came to mind.

I only barely managed to retain my stoicism over that thought, the urge to scoff very great indeed, but was saved from grappling over propriety and desire by finally drawing even with Sakura. I very gratefully withdrew my gaze from Sasori (thank _god_; I was only getting more and more angry the longer I looked at him) to look on Sakura, swept out to sea once again by her loveliness despite having already seen her (was this what the whole evening was going to be like? If so, it was not so terrible… there were worse things than having your breath stolen by a beautiful woman), and thus was witness to her diminutive form shying away from me as I came to a halt at her side.

I would have scowled at this, displeased by the continuance of her dismal fear, but I restrained myself for Sakura's sake. Though I knew she had good reason to be acting so reserved, as I had threatened her with a furthering of her already humiliating discipline if she failed to meet my demands this evening (ha… as though she could), she clearly felt she had failed in them already, and was awaiting my judgment of not only the activity I had caught her in the middle of, but of her attire in the same note.

She was looking up at me through her eyelashes, watching my every move and biting at her bottom lip as she did so; I had no business making her feel worse than she was already, and she might mistake my frown over her behavior for disapproval with her performance, and her appearance as well.

It was bad enough that she was afraid of suffering pain from me… she should not fear for my derision as well.

Clearing my throat to belay the disgust I felt for myself and my stupidity, I gave Sakura a flat, sedate look, stating nothing with my expression and confusing her greatly, if I could take anything from the furrow her brow sank into; this was a necessary evil (though I longed to smooth the wrinkles from her forehead ardently), as I had no wish to deliver my compliments to her while in the presence of the stoically persistent presence of the night doorman, and intended to say as little as possible until I had her alone.

If I gave in to my desire to assert the fact that Sakura had dressed this way for my pleasure, not _his_, even so much as to simply praise her dress, I would never stop; this night was mine without the admittedly gratifying pleasure of gloating mockery, and I might let slip something I did not intend to if I were to get too prideful.

But standing here like a mindless dolt wasn't helping anything, as time was wasting and I had to say _something_, and as such spoke quickly and quietly, sending a quick glance at the man hanging over Sakura's shoulder passively but wishing for nothing more than to glare at him with my all.

The sight of him kissing her would not leave my mind, and I do not think anything but his demise is ever going to erase it.

"Are you ready, Sakura?" I forced out, tone empty and emotionless and so uncaring that I myself almost flinched at its impassiveness, and Sakura responded with an even deeper flush and a small bob of her head, her lower lip being bitten at even more ardently.

My throat tightened in chagrin, dislike for my role once again rearing its head, but I knew I could do nothing to ease her discomfort at the moment. She needed me to be this way, expected it of me, even, and it was only for a little longer. Just a handful of minutes more…

This mantra had become something of a devout prayer of late.

She had given me the answer I needed, though, and, with acrimony and yet anticipation biting at my heels, the desire to take Sakura's hand to lead her to my car pushed back with everything I had (not in front of the help, I told myself with a cruel twist to my thoughts), I turned on my heel and walked back to the doors that led out to the sidewalk, holding one open for Sakura austerely.

The small things were the ones that were noted in the long run, after all…

I was not as deaf as I was blind (I reminded myself, with a great deal of displeasure, that I was going to need to look into permanent prescription eyeglasses soon, the admition of weakness for everyone to see not one I relished), and so overheard Sakura's murmur of farewell to Sasori as she made her way across the tiled floor to me, her skirts drawn up in her hands and her eyes and form downcast.

A sneer threatened my blank façade, envy for the ease with which the man's kiss had been accepted taking over, and I forcibly turned my eyes to the ceiling, begging for the restraint I would need to walk away. Sakura, surely, had known Sasori's intent when drawing her so near, when putting his unworthy hands on her, and had done nothing to discourage the press of his lips to her cheek.

She had only pushed him away because I had interrupted.

The message this sent was not one I wanted to hear. She had not turned his advances to the side… she was accepting of him and what he offered her. That their relationship had progressed this far was again a fault of mine, as I could have put a stop to it earlier if I were not such a goddamn coward and had backbone enough to stand up for what was mine…

But now was not the time for these sort of thoughts; not only was I endeavoring to put an end to my deficient presence in Sakura's life, I was to, slowly but surely, be filling the capacity that Sasori hoped for. There was no need to fret over unnecessary details and small hindrances, not when I needed to focus on the bigger picture.

As such, I let out a small, unheard snort, shook away my jealousy (but, seemingly, could not shake away the image of Sasori being so intimate with Sakura; that such a small thing could get under my skin was a discredit to me and my plan both, and I needed to get a grip before I hurt the bothersome meddler), and spun to follow after Sakura, as she had clicked past me and onto the sidewalk while I was caught up in my thoughts.

As soon as I had turned, however, I froze in place, eyes wide and hand frozen to the still ajar door and mind, clunking slowly along, capable of thinking only of what now lay clear and unembellished before me. I should have suppositioned, from the cut of her dress, this possibility, but I had been so distracted by her overall and generous exquisiteness that I had paid no mind to what had not been clear to my eyes. I should have, should have given myself a chance to prepare, because god have _mercy_…

Her dress had no back.

If I had had any breath left, I would have misplaced it all over again as I stared, blindsided, at the full expanse of Sakura's delicately curving spine and the rounds of her shoulder blades, every consecutive inch of her glowing, snow white skin more mesmerizing than the last. It was all that I could do to keep from reaching out to touch her bared flesh; I actually had to stop my hand from rising unconsciously, the implement having twitched towards her without my consent.

This woman… she would be the _death_ of me.

There was an accusation of purposeful incitement on my tongue as I stared, gaping like a teenage boy, at Sakura's back, suddenly and completely sure that she was doing this to me on purpose. She had known she would be spending all evening with me, that I would be seeing this garment on her body, that she would be needful of my approval of it… was she _trying_ to provoke me?

If she was, her ploy was more than successful: there was not a thought in my head that didn't have to do with her.

But she was not that sort of woman, and I knew that with a clarifying vengeance. It was completely coincidental that she was as uncovered as she was; more than she wished for my attentions in that manner, she was trying to impress upon me her maturity and social grace. That was what we were here for tonight, at least to her knowledge… she was making good on the deal that we had made, assuring that I knew that she was a grown woman, capable of being established and cognizant and reliable.

As though I really needed reassurance of the fullness of her growth.

Swept away yet again by the level of attraction she was capable of, I slowly dropped my hand away from the handle of the door, still staring unabashedly and with intrepid famishment at the expanse of my obsession's back as I did so, the door coming to a rest on my slack shoulder, as I had yet to move.

It was as I was sweeping my eyes over the indentions that the connections her feminine muscles made in her flesh once more that I remembered my audience, Sasori still standing where we had left him, and the remembrance that he had been touching Sakura when she was so bare shocked me into sudden and shattering reality.

How _dare_ he.

He had no _right_ to put his hands on her when she was so vulnerable, so exposed, and the cold veracity of the realization that he had been aware of her state of undress, and had had the gall to touch her naked flesh, made me seethe in hot fury. This beautiful creature was _mine_, tonight only the first that I would claim such ownership, and I would not allow another man's influence to top mine.

She would not think, not even once, of his boldness tonight… not if I and all of the things I intended to do had anything to say about it.

I smirked to myself, shrugging the door away from where it had fallen against my shoulder while I had stood frozen and stunned in my mindless stupor. I would hold true to my resolve not to think lewdly of Sakura tonight, but that need not stop me from putting all of the things that Sasori had attempted to impress on her to shame. I had not intended to force too much on her tonight, holding my hand, engaging in lover's banter and dancing with me the worst she would have to accept, but now… _now_ I had an impression to make.

I refused to be bested, least of all by _him_.

Even more excited by the prospect of the evening ahead than ever before, I took a step out of the building after Sakura, needing to hasten so that she wouldn't attempt to open her door by herself. But as much as I needed to hurry, and as little as I truly intended to fight the man for something that I already considered mine, I could not resist a parting jab over my eminent success, a reminder that Sakura looked the part of a goddess for my benefit alone, and as such, just as I was letting the door of the building close behind me, I looked back over my shoulder at Sasori, lifted my chin minutely, and sent the man a victorious smirk.

I will treasure his expression of thwarted indignity for the rest of my days.

Completely satisfied with myself and ready to be on my way at long last, I stroke quickly across the cement to my passenger side door to pull it to for Sakura, beckoning the still prostrate woman inside with a silent hand wave. She communicated her thanks just as mutely, nodding to me with her mouth in a nervous, trembling line, and slipped into her seat with a grace that belied her anxiety, her dress rustling around her legs and against the seat as she settled herself.

I denied myself the desire to peek at the view of her thigh I had been offered unknowingly as I shut her door (being good, being good), averting my eyes to the sidewalk and its old, dried gum instead while, at the same time, giving myself a moment to compose myself in my own company before I joined Sakura (I would not get a chance later, since I would be spending every second with her following this short reprieve).

She was so unbelievably stunning, so unexpectedly gorgeous (I had thought it an impossibility that she could be even more striking than she was every day), that something dark in my mind had begun to break free, something covetous and despicable, and I fought it back with difficulty; this presence wanted nothing more than to hoard the beautiful girl to myself, to deny any other man the joy of seeing her dressed as she was, and even though it was an enticing and attractive idea, I couldn't exactly lock her away from the world without consequence, saying nothing of the fact that my possessive mania would more than likely alarm Sakura.

It was a small matter that I was seriously considering kidnap; I had thought of worse.

I took a deep breath, forcibly calming the part of myself that was festering in jealous ire, brushed one of my bangs from my eyes with a careless, vain hand, and then walked around my car to seat myself within, buckling my seatbelt with slow, weightily composed precision.

The change in atmosphere the moment that the click of the buckle sounded was drastic; it was almost as though all the oxygen had been sucked from the enclosed space, like being alone together was the very last thing that Sakura wanted at the moment, and it was her cowed and stiff posture that I viewed from the corner of my eye, her head ducked down and her eyes looking to me hopefully, that reminded me that I needed to ease her worry, that I was most likely scaring her with my silence and my indifference in the face of what I had found her engaged in.

But what should I say?

I did not know. What would be appropriate to mention at the moment? I was stunned into utter stupidity by her beauty, but I would come on too strong for admitting to such potent feelings. I did not want to appear grasping (despite the fact that this was exactly the case), so I could say nothing about how I had disliked her being touched by another man and that I alone had this right. Discussing our agreement was taboo as well; it was clearly what was on her mind at the moment, and to force even more reminders of my threats upon her was not a very good beginning to the evening.

Curse my tongue and the knots it formed when in this girl's presence…

It is entirely probable that I would have wasted the entire evening away in this manner, stupidly fumbling to gather my thoughts together, but I was, fortunately, saved from this end by Sakura beginning to fidget, her slightly shaking fingers smoothing over the skirt of her dress in nervous fussiness.

This lent me the subject that I could pursue to, as they say, get the ball rolling; I could easily compliment her gown without leading into any completely justified suspicions about my interest in her, and could allude to both our plans this evening and ease her fears over my opinion of Sasori kissing her in my sight (all that I would ever tell her of it, in any case) at the same time.

So, with this in mind, I turned sideways in my seat, sent another glance, longer and more thorough this time, over her dress (it remained true that I had already seen enough of it to have the pattern of the fabric, the subtle nuances of the flows in the gems, and even the flawless stitches imprinted into my mind's eye, but I couldn't help my admiration; she was just too beautiful to resist), and allowed my emotionless mask to lift into a heartfelt, sincere smile, resisting the urge to reach over to take her chin in hand so that she would look at me (she had turned away to look with almost desperate interest at her toes the moment that I had rotated towards her).

I would most likely shock her with my forwardness if I did… and she would meet my eye as soon as I delivered my opinion.

"That dress is beautiful, Sakura," I complimented softly, looking, with resigned expectation, on the expression of shock Sakura's features fell into when I said what was, to her, completely out of the blue. If I could take anything from her widened, though admittedly still averted, eyes, she had been expecting me to withdraw my offer of peace, disdain her behavior… perhaps even deplore her outfit, and was clearly suspicious.

It's not as though I could blame her for her wariness… I had been more than deserving of it.

"It is unsurprising that Mr. Akasuna couldn't resist taking advantage of your femininity… I shall have to keep you closer to my side tonight than I thought I would have to," I finished, hoping to get some sort of positive reaction from her (just a nod and that look of mistrust leaving would be enough for me), but was unprepared for the fullness of her response.

Sakura, more taken aback by my negligibly feigned mildness than I had anticipated, whirled in her seat to look at me with stunned, optimism filled eyes, her mouth hanging open a centimeter and her cheeks flushed a red so delicious it made my blood resonate shrilly. She stared at me in complete shock for the full expanse of a second, shocked into both immobility and muteness, before bowing her head away from me again, her throat working helplessly and her tongue licking at her lips without result.

I could not help the chuckle that escaped me, morbidly amused by her skittishness (if she reacted so strongly to simple compliments, she would have jumped through the roof if I had acted on my desire to touch her), but allowed her continued silence, accepting it as her answer in favor of embarrassing her further; she was flustered by my flattery and lack of reprehension, so much so that she could not even muster a reply.

Oh, how well she would fit her part tonight.

I had not thought she would be so embarrassed by my comment, and feared it having the opposite effect that I had been intending as I started my car and pulled into the early evening traffic, but I needn't have doubted; the tense atmosphere had broken when I had laughed, my unspoken acceptance of Sakura's reticence a point in my favor, apparently, and we had not even made it to the first traffic light when Sakura spoke, breaking thought the quiet by asking me about what still needed to be done when we got to City Hall.

She kept the silence at bay the entire ride to the location of the Gala, by the miracle of her inquisition; she asked ceaselessly about the night ahead as we drove slowly through the city. I am forced to admit that I had not been aware there was still so much that she had not known about her part.

We had discussed the coming evening in such detail the past few weeks that it seemed almost inconceivable that we had not talked of everything possible to speak about in detail at least twice, but from her surprise over the fact that she would have to dance with me during the proceedings, and that she was required to literally be at my side the entire night, I had clearly skipped over a few crucial points.

I made sure to ease her obvious nervousness over the subjects that she brought up, promising that she only had to dance with me once and that she would not be required to say anything to anyone beyond hellos, though I was all too aware of the slightly petulant inkling that seated itself immovably somewhere around my stomach.

I had wanted very much to perform each dance that was played the whole evening with Sakura, having been imagining doing so for long enough to sometimes have my dreams invaded by the imagined victory, and was very unhappy that she did not want as I did (I didn't particularly care that she didn't want to speak to anyone else besides me; this would only make her cleave to me even more strongly, and I had _no_ problem with that).

But despite my very recently put aside desire, and my discontent with the necessity of its undoing, I could not get the blank, preoccupied look she had adopted when confronted by the news that she would have to be so close to me out of my mind, and I refused to put my overall efforts in jeopardy for the small release of having her in my arms all night if she was not comfortable with it.

I would have liked to admit to being as at ease and solemn as my companion was managing to be as the minutes stretched longer on our sojourn through the city, but even a blatant and damning series of lies could not have covered the tracks I strode.

Though the conversation and the road kept most of my attention, the drivers of the city insatiable in their desire to wreak havoc on all those around them and Sakura unstoppable in her queries, no matter what distraction snagged my attention I always, somehow, found my gaze drifting back to the babbling woman at my side, appreciation and wonder the only things on my mind besides Sakura's chosen topic of the moment.

I had thought her unnaturally attractive for most of the time that I had known her, not put off in the slightest by her strange hair color or her naturally shy demeanor or her habit of chewing her left thumbnail when thinking (I was getting off topic…), and had come to terms, _long_ ago, with the fact that, in the whole world, I could think of no other that was her equal in true, unadorned beauty. She was stunning without trying, a goddess in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, flawless and gorgeous and my entire _world_…

And I simply could not comprehend how she could be even more perfect.

No matter how many times I looked at her, I just could not get over it. She was, without a doubt, the most awe inspiring and hypnotizing that she ever had been tonight, and I could not resist looking at her every few seconds, just to ascertain that this was not all some twisted incarnation fabricated by my imagination.

In all honesty, my attempts at giving a name to her looks were falling lamentably short; I suspect that there is not a word good, fitting, or flattering enough to describe her in the entirety of the earth.

I am lost to uncommon amazement that she never noticed me staring at her during the long moments that she held my riveted attention, truthfully; I know, without a doubt, that I gave her many opportunities to catch me out in my blatant perusal of her almost excessive feminine stateliness.

Alarm thrilled in my blood when she would turn and almost spy me in my distraction, but she never said anything that would give away knowledge of my attention. Suspicion narrowed my eyes when she remained turned away as I stared for almost too long, as though inviting my consideration, but I dismissed my qualms easily with a forceful self-assurance of Sakura's ignorance of my feelings; she was not the kind of woman who would have strung me along when made aware of how I felt.

My curiosity over her obliviousness was great, and I greatly wished for an answer to what seemed almost deliberate unawareness, but when my first attempt at garnering a response about it fell flat (my own fault; I had asked after what material her dress was made of, an attempt to draw her into realizing that I was staring at her without reserve, but was, unfortunately, distracted by imaginings of what the revealed silk fabric would feel like under my hands when I finally got to touch her, and lost out on my chance to pursue the subject any further by Sakura abruptly changing the subject), I gave up and resigned myself to snuck glimpses and unanswered questions.

I needed only to be patient… she would have no excuses to explain away my devotions once we were at the Gala.

Though I had no occasion to stew in uncomfortable silence during the drive to the event of the evening, mostly due to Sakura's seemingly unending plethora of queries, the journey still seemed all too long to me, my exuberant anxiety refusing to allow me peace of mind, and when we finally pulled into the nearly deserted parking lot at city hall (there were only two other cars in the lot besides my own; I did not know who they belonged to, as I paid no real mind to such trivial matters, but it was of some interest to me regarding who it was that had bothered to show up an hour and ten minutes early), I attempted to vault from my seat, so eager was I to, at long last, begin my carefully planned coup.

Unfortunately, my enthusiasm ended up getting me tangled in my seat belt in the process of all but leaping from my car, and thus allowed Sakura to exit the vehicle of her own power.

Irritation twitched at the corner of my eye, as it did every time that Sakura ignored propriety by refusing my assistance, but when I had finally fought my way free of my restraint and stood, I saw that her denial had not been deliberate; she was looking around her with a confused pucker between her brows, as though concerned about something to do with our whereabouts.

Her distraction was both mysterious and fortuitous; I did not know what about our surroundings was puzzling to her, but with her gaze closely studying the building in front of us, her hands limp at her sides and her attention diverted… she would not have time to shy away from me as I made my first move of the night, as I was sure that she would try to do in her ignorance of my intentions.

Chuckling to myself, I closed my door with a light hand (so I would not alarm Sakura and clue her in to my approach), walked as quietly as I could to my companion's side, and took her hand in mine. I took a much too short second to relish in the feeling of her smaller, much more fragile hand enclosed in mine, her palm miraculously smooth and unmarred by the callouses that my own bore, before pulling on it insistently, dragging the still unaware woman against my side so that I could curl her arm into the crook of mine, which I did immediately.

Startled from her reverie and sent stumbling from the force of my motion and the precariousness of her stature both (her equilibrium was easily disrupted by high heels, I had documented before, and I, arguably villainously, used this to my advantage now so that she would have to cling to me to regain her balance), Sakura looked up at me with wide, stunned eyes, her fingers tight on my arm where she caught herself (I grinned within: success) and her cheeks once again glowing with her blush.

I appeared to have struck her speechless with my, at least to her, abrupt movement, and as such took the opportunity to tease her a little bit, releasing her hand from my grasp only to cover and pat it lightly in its place on my forearm, sending the aghast woman a slightly smug smirk as I did.

"As I said, Sakura; I am going to have to keep you close to my side tonight," I informed her teasingly, both disgruntled and glorying in the complete truth of my claim (even though most of the men present for the evening would be accompanied by either their wives or their girlfriends, I was sure that they would also not be blind to Sakura's radiance; I would need to be on watch for more than just Nagato tonight), and Sakura flushed even redder, turning her gaze from me bashfully and, without determined intent but clear reluctance, tried to pull her hand away from me.

I will admit, with great shame, to reacting a little too strongly.

What, to Sakura, must have been simple discomfort to my imperious attitude swiftly and without reproach became yet another rejection to my unstable bravado, her spurning of me the night I had discovered the infidelity of… certain parties… rising from amidst my many repressed memories with a vengeance, and unfair anger, both at myself and Sakura, poisoned my intent and wrung the sense from my brain until not a single drop of humanity remained, leaving me a resentful, bellicose husk of what I wanted to be: good enough for her.

My thoughts were jaded with envy and blackened with spite in my turmoil, and even though I knew, in the still sensible part of my mind, that Sakura had not meant any harm in her withdrawal, still I fumed. She was turning me away _again_. She did not want me to touch her, she did not want to be so close to me… she wanted this from her dearly departed _husband_, and from her "friend" the doorman, but not from me. Would she _never_ want as I did?

Would she spend the rest of her life pushing me away when all I wanted was her regard?

Even as I thought these accusing and disordered statements I knew them for the unfounded ravings that they were, my paranoia of suffering another dismissal at my love's hands too keen and sharp to be healthy, but I, in my weakness and my fear, could not summon the strength to withstand them, and, to my eternal shame, I lashed out, my craven and bigoted fury emitting from me in threats both detrimental and coarse.

I was doing by damnedest to prove that I was worth her time… and my sudden onset of temper would not allow her to refuse me anymore.

"Do not make me withdraw my offer of peace so early in the evening Sakura…" I cautioned in a harsh growl, my lips in a flat line of displeasure and my fingers tight over hers in refusal of her attempt at escaping me (I severely checked my strength as I did the later; I might be irate, but I would _not_ hurt her, no matter what I felt or what depraved level I allowed myself to descend to), and took a long and pointed step forward, dragging the unwilling and cast adrift woman behind me in my wake with ungentlemanly indifference.

Sakura struggled to keep up with me as I strode across the tarmac with her in tow, clutching at her skirt and muttering denials under her breath while trying her best to catch up, and in the face of her complaint allowance of my temper tantrum, I lost all but the merest dreg of my ire in a heady rush, the sudden absence of anger and the abrupt appearance of regret and disgrace leaving me empty and cold.

I should have been used to this feeling, as I was swamped by it more often than I liked to admit (due to my general idiocy in handling this relationship), but every time I was even more astounded by my audacity, by my capacity for malice.

What the hell was _wrong_ with me?

More in control but aware that Sakura was waiting for me to explain my discontent (appearances still needed to be kept for the moment…), I went on, forcibly calming my tone and averting my eyes to my feet, too spineless to face Sakura in the wake of my antagonism.

"It is key that everyone here believes that we are together, and if you are constantly shying away from me, no one will be fooled," I informed her in an undertone, scrambling to cover the tracks I had trod in my hasty irrationality and pushing past my desire to find a hole to hide in from sheer embarrassment, before mounting the stairwell up to the vast expanse of entryways that led into City Hall and elaborating. "I have absolutely no wish for anyone, least of all my superiors, to be privy to the fact that we are merely friends and not lovers, and I will be _very_ unhappy if they should find out because you cannot do as I ask you for one single night."

Such chastisement had been suited to my purposes, and I had intended to stop there. I needn't have gone on any further; she was already cowed enough without doing any more damage. But my anger simmered in me yet, cloying and poisonous and waiting for opportunity to strike, and a belittling and cruel rebuke escaped my lips before I could stop it, sharp and callous and without excuse.

"You haven't forgotten that this is your penance _already_, have you?" I finished in a spiteful sneer, my tone questioning her ability of recollection, and once the words had left me, leaving a bitter and sickly taste in their wake, I very narrowly repressed the urge to rip my tongue from my mouth.

God, what _else_ would I do this evening to further prove my unworthiness?

Cursing at myself and fighting against a sudden wave of nauseated disgust (why the hell had I _said_ that?), I shook my head to try to rid myself of my immature and fitful temper, finally gaining the top of the steps (thank god; I could barely concentrate on anything but my chagrin, and had almost tripped all over myself at least three times while going up the stairwell). As I did I sent a cursory glance over my shoulder, attempting to coolly look to Sakura's response and sneakily try to judge how badly I was doing at the same time…

And was not encouraged by what I saw.

Sakura had her head bowed in a show of humbled acquiescence, her bottom lip captured between her teeth and her expression chastised as she shook her head, and I flinched, swallowing hard and turning back around to closely watch my feet as I walked across the last of the cement that separated us from the inside of the approaching building.

Apparently, I didn't need Nagato's help to destroy the night ahead; I was doing perfectly well all on my own.

Breathing deeply in and then out in an attempt to console myself with the likelihood that not all was lost yet (I was unsuccessful), I slowly but pointedly loosened my fingers where they lay over hers, looking back to her and nodding affirmatively as genially as I could manage.

"Good. So just remember the plan; be as convincing as you can without being improper, and don't stray too far from me. Got it?" I asked cautiously, watching Sakura surreptitiously with an empty expression (she would be even more confused than she surely was now if I showed how worried I was) but overly keen anticipation, and Sakura glanced over my face quickly, searching for answers that I was not ready to give, before nodding and straightening from her humility, ready to perform her duty to its fullest to please me.

As grateful as I was for this, I was, to be perfectly honest, a little surprised by her allowing manner in the face of my open (if falsified) derision.

I was both disturbed and elated by her behavior. On the one hand, Sakura's easy acceptance of my clear distaste was a detriment to my future efforts, showing all too obviously that she had come to expect this sort of behavior from me. I was sickened by this, by the fact that I had departed so far from her good opinion that she thought me a conscienceless and immoral cad, and would have been eternally discouraged from the path that I pursued had the miracle of her benevolence not been gifted to me.

But it had been, because gloriously and clearly displayed on the other god given hand was the fact that Sakura had not run, that she had not told me, as I more than deserved, to go screw myself and to shove my opinions and my misdirected ridicule where the sun never shines. She should have, and I had more than expected her to, but to see her still beside me, awaiting my orders and trying to prove to me that she was worthy of being my friend (ha… it was _I_ that did not deserve such a gift) was earthshattering and unreal, shining a ray of hope that I had done nothing to merit into my storm of despair and erstwhile indignation.

You will not be surprised to hear that, once I realized what I had been given, I clung, with fraught desperation, to that sliver of optimism with all my power.

Giddy with expectation and eagerness and afloat on a sea of determined and mindfully repentant indignity (I would make my shortness up to her tenfold), I took the last step needed to get to the door I had targeted, pulled it open and released Sakura's arm so she could enter ahead of me, and gave her a covertly grateful look (she would see it as nothing more than a warning; no need to make her suspicious too early on) before pasting an, at the moment, false smile to my lips and stepping into the building after her.

With a guiding and acceptably intimate hand pressed to the small of Sakura's back (an excuse I used handily to feel the texture of her dress for myself), I directed her back to my side and, regretfully, turned my attention to the previously mysterious occupants of the two cars outside, now revealed to be standing clustered together in the main hall, out of breath and arguing, at the tops of their lungs, about who had beaten whom and who would have to buy the drinks for the night ahead as punishment.

Now that I had seen (and heard) them, I felt slightly embarrassed; I should have suppositioned for myself that it was they who had arrived so early. It was well known that the two men were extremely competitive in everything that they did; it was only natural that they would make even the arrival to a formal event into a race.

Neither Commander Hatake nor Lieutenant Gai were men that liked to lose; I should know, as they had tracked me down and reamed me up one side and down the other for beating their before undefeated scores at the Academy.

Smirking indulgently to myself, I pressed my hand to Sakura's back a little more firmly as I strode across the tiled and immaculate hall to meet the now aware of my presence grouping of men, their breath still uneven but both now wearing expressions of knowing welcome (I had to guess at Kakashi's, truthfully; he wears an eye patch and face mask habitually and it is truly difficult to interpret a person's mien from two square inches of facial features).

I will admit, with no refutation desired, to being more than a little impressed at Sakura's roleplaying.

I had simply been hopeful of Sakura not overreacting to my touch, in all honesty; she had never been caught up in a lie as large as this was to the best of my knowledge, and I expected her to be jumpy, at least at first (especially because of my forwardness in allowing my thumb to fall past the material of her gown to trace lightly across the exposed skin of her lower back; it was very inappropriate of me, but I could not help myself), but she surprised me.

As we were crossing the lobby she made a magnificent and abrupt transition, going from walking at my side with her head high to sinking into the enclosure of my arm with her shoulders slumped, clinging to the lapels of my suit as though helpless and incapable of walking on her own.

Her eyes averted to follow her feet's path, her head bowed bashfully against my shoulder and, in a blatantly overt manner, muttered an insecure and shy plaintive to me, beneath her breath and just loud enough for the two men watching us to hear.

"Itachi… your friends… do you want me to wait for you in the other room? I don't want to embarrass you if I'm… if I'm unwelcome," she provided tremulously, playing up the newness of our "relationship" almost too well, and I smirked and tugged her body closer to mine, watching her blush spread from the corner of my eye rapturously (was it real, or a façade as well?) and marveling, with every ounce of my being, at the feeling of completion I felt at having her tucked into my arm.

How perfectly she fit into my side… how well she complimented my drabness with her brilliance.

Astounded all over again by the opportunity that I had been offered on a golden platter this evening but aware of our audience, I ran my too bold hand down to rest on Sakura's hip, leaned down to rub my nose against her ear (she shivered, surely astonished by my forwardness), and stage whispered my answer.

"You are welcome everywhere that I am, Sakura. I have nothing that I wish to withhold from you in my life," I reprimanded softly, pulling her to a stop when we finally stood in front of our observant audience, and Sakura nodded mutely before glancing at the two men nervously, a timid, placating smile on her lips.

I snorted softly in amusement of her farce, a sound for only her to hear, and then turned to face those in front of me mindfully, holding out a hand in greeting.

"Kakashi, Gai," I greeted as I shook each of their hands, giving them a genial nod as I did. "I trust that you are both well and the trip was not a hassle? I understand there have been many riots in Chicago of late, and I am sure that they are weighing heavily on your minds, but please do try to relax tonight."

Gai, pleased as punch to see me (I know this because he told me so), immediately launched into a long winded monologue about the youth of the evening and the potential it held for merrymaking, but I knew that I was not required to listen to all of it and as such turned my attention to the more serious of the two.

Kakashi, throwing none-too-covert looks at Sakura from the corner of his visible eye, waved my niceties away with an easy hand, the other tucked into the same pocket as a rolled up Playboy (another implement the man is never without), shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Yeah, there has been a lot of trouble with the Worker's Union lately, but I'm not too worried. Anko is more than competent enough to take care of a couple of pissed off picketers," he dismissed readily, sparing me a crinkle eyed, amused glance, before turning fully to Sakura, tilting his head and leaning down slightly. "But enough about us; we have all night to gossip about work. I'm more interested in finding out what you did to get this stunning lady to come with you tonight. So shy… either your tastes have changed after being married to a high maintenance woman, or this beauty has you wrapped around her finger tighter than Ibiki tightens handcuffs."

A twinge of jealous possessiveness ran through me at his more than obvious opinion of Sakura's attractiveness, the desire to pull her behind me and snarl at the man to find his own woman strong, but I ignored it more easily than I had thought that I was capable of; I had thought that it would take every ounce of my not so considerable strength to resist the pull of my protectiveness. But the knowledge that Kakashi was engaged to be married, and was a ruthlessly loyal being and faithful friend, aided me in keeping my head, and as such I was able to send the inquisitive man a valiant (and thankfully successful) attempt at a smile.

"Of course… I apologize for my rudeness. Kakashi, Gai, this is Sakura Haruno (using her maiden name was a necessity for the evening as well, a detail that, I am embarrassed to admit, I had needed to be reminded of by Sakura, else I never would have thought of it), my girlfriend. We have known each other for several years, through a mutual acquaintance, but only began dating a few months ago," I explained, skipping over unnecessary details with only a prick of conscience biting at me as I did, and then nudged Sakura, who was doing her upmost to avoid looking at anything but her feet.

"Sakura," I called to her softly, allowing my voice to develop a caring and soft edge that I knew she would notice, and her eyes snapped up to mine, her blush resurfacing as she looked to me with both surprise and a burgeoning hope that I intended to make bloom into confidence throughout the evening. Satisfied with her attention (and her interest), I bumped her forward slightly, encouraging her to interact with the man in front of her. "This is Kakashi Hatake, head of Chicago's Special Forces Unit, and behind him is Maito Gai, his partner, longtime friend and, more often than not, rival. I was six years under them at the Police Academy, and they've never forgiven me for beating all of their records."

Sakura curtsied to both men nervously, stammering out a greeting to the both of them simultaneously before trying to retreat back into my embrace, but Gai, having been drawn from his lecture by his name being mentioned, came forward and captured Sakura's hand, leaning down to kiss it before, with barely retained enthusiasm, shaking that same hand exuberantly.

"A pleasure, Ms. Haruno! A real pleasure! It truly is good to see that you have such an effect on Itachi's life; he always has the longest face. He seems happy, for once. This is excellent. But you must excuse my rambling; I am simply astonished by your radiance! Such a gorgeous display of the power of youth I have never seen!" he observed much too keenly, flashing my unsure and floundering date a wide, bright grin, and Kakashi leaned around his shoulder, inspecting Sakura closely for a moment, before turning to me with a glint in his eye that I did not like.

"Gai's right, Itachi… she's a beautiful girl, but damn it, man! Did you _have_ to one-up all of us? We're all gonna be here with our old ladies, and here _you_ are with a barely legal siren, putting the rest of us to shame without even trying. I knew you were always one for the chase, but since when were you a cradle robber?" he whispered to me, and, surprised and suddenly nervous, I nearly choked on the breath I had taken a second before, struggling to keep my composure in lieu of my friend's assumption and flicking my gaze over to where Sakura stood.

I was not unaware of the effect that the differences in my and Sakura's ages would have on those that were aware of it; while it was common for men to seek a younger female in romance, for reasons both logical and immoral, there was a certain level of taboo that went along with the subject as well.

Assumptions as to both my character and Sakura's intentions would be made, especially because I was so well off and she of so little influence but such great beauty, and I had done my best thus far to keep Sakura from being made aware of the things that would be said about her that I would not be able to silence.

I did not know if she could handle the cruel rumors and scathing gossip that would follow us without remorse.

I dreaded finding out, and being reminded of the likelihood of this problem arising while in her presence was not comforting in the least. One day I would be confronted by it head on, and would need good, solid standpoints to keep from losing what I was trying so hard to attain, but I contented myself, for the moment, at least, with the fact that Sakura was as of yet either unaware or uncaring of our differing age groups (both at the moment and in general; she liked me, on some level, all on her own and was being handily distracted by Gai presently) and that, in truth, we were not so far apart in our ages (nine years was not such a long time when held in comparison to twenty).

But I was digressing.

"Only since I met _her_, Kakashi. She has changed many things about me… but I do not regret any of them. Love is a fickle thing, after all, and easily offended," I relented beneath my breath, sending the outwardly blank but clearly curious man a covert smirk, before moving to rescue my companion from Gai's passionate rapport, intent on introducing her to the Kakashi's before mysteriously missing fiancée, Kurenai Yuhi, that had just emerged from the inner hall before dragging her off to complete the duties I had yet to complete so that the evening could progress.

And, with surprisingly tranquil ease, progress it did.

Largely, as the sun outside gave way to the early hours of evening, all went according to plan, regarding my endeavors in being a good host and my ploy to gain Sakura's affections both.

I had known that the former would be assured me (despite the fact that my tendency to overthink things and assume the worst had threatened me with despair more than once), my planning and preparations flawless enough to require minimal involvement on my part, and as such was not taken aback by the smoothness with which the activities of the night moved along. The latter, however, had been a hypothetical quandary, something that I could only, at best, guess at.

It pleased me to no end to find that it was an unqualified and abounding success.

If I had not known that my plotting had been a complete secret, I would have been suspicious of the level of intimacy that Sakura allowed me when I touched her, growing bolder and bolder as the minutes became hours. I had, honestly, expected a complaint to come at some point, for something that I dared to be too much for her and for her to tell me to back off.

That _she_ was the one to never let her hands stray from my body, and that _she_ was the one to encourage me to place my hands lower on her waist than would have been acceptable for the first time her partner was touching her, threw me off balance.

I spent most of the evening in deeper contemplation of what this meant than I should have, needing, at times, to be nudged from my thoughts so I could return to a conversation or begin the next event. I could not help myself, though; the question mark that had hung over my head after pressing a quick but almost indecently bold kiss to Sakura's cheek during dinner (a test, of sorts, to see how far Sakura would let me go) was ostentatious and unavoidably pressing.

Was she merely a good actor, dedicated to her role despite her feelings for me, or was what I was doing, what I dared to force on her under pretense, what she truly wanted from me, despite the youth of our involvement?

I could not decide. One moment I would be certain of my opinion, sure that she was only pretending for the sake of what I had asked for her to do, and then she would look at me with shining, hopeful eyes, her fingers twined with mine as though they had always been meant to be there, and I would doubt, cast adrift and unsure. Then, when I had finally succumbed to the hope that she, surreally and impossibly, wanted this so much already that she would be as free with me as she was being, she would remind me that this was a sham by something that she said to one of the other guests, a reference to our facsimile of a relationship that was too easily spoken, and I would be thrown all over again.

And I had thought that _she_ would be the one having problems tonight…

But, despite my satisfaction with the overall reception of my coup, and the contentment I felt at seeing so many old acquaintances, the feeling of nervous apprehension that I had been possessed by for the better part of four months would not leave me, cold fingers of suspicion creeping up my spine whenever I thought about what had yet to come.

I had been waiting all night for Nagato to make his promised advent, and he had yet to do any more than greet me with mocking cordiality.

The suspense would have been easier borne if I had not, through some cruel twist of fate, been within ten feet of the man the whole evening. I was always aware of his presence because of this, jumpy and timid whenever he would look at me for any longer than a second, and I was sure that if he flashed even one more of his crafty grins at me I would go through a mental break.

I really wished that Nagato would just hurry up and interrogate Sakura and me and get it over with instead of drawing out my indignity to the fullest that he was able (as I was sure he was doing purposefully).

My fear of his interference was still strong, almost eclipsing the joy I felt for all the success that I was reaping, and it was with a separated and muddled psyche that I wended my way through the evening, confusedly trying to piece together my feelings for Sakura's bluffing, committing almost nothing that any of the guests said to me to long term memory (a few had mentioned, in passing, that Sakura and I complemented each other so well that they expected us to marry soon, and even thought I echoed this sentiment with hopeful eagerness, I would not remember such a thing being said to me the next morning), and haphazardly stumbling through my duties as host, not realizing that a distraction on my part was exactly what my conniving superior was hoping for until it was too late.

I tapped my fingers against the top of the marble railing that I stood beside impatiently, looking over the milling heads of police officers, high ranking officials and varying heights of female hairdos appraisingly, bored and, for the first time since the night had begun, alone. The first dance had just moments before been completed, and I had allowed Sakura to escape to the ladies room, as she had claimed to need a moment to herself.

I did not doubt her truthfulness in this; she had been almost overwhelmed by being so close to me, her blush never settling during the simple Viennese Waltz that we had performed, and had almost succumbed to the desire to (if I had not been mistaken) press her lips to mine while held so close and looked on with as much affection as I had allowed myself to show.

She had let me touch her, she had almost given in and _kissed_ me; she could have her moment if she wished.

It was as I was contemplating calling over one of the waiters so that I could down a glass of champagne (to bolster my flagging bravery, I swore to myself; nothing more than a little liquid courage) that I came to the realization that I, perhaps, should have insisted on following Sakura, at least to the doorway of the restrooms; I had allowed us to be separated, and if there was any ploy that Nagato loved, it was "divide and conquer".

_Shit_.

Instantly abandoning my post at the head of the short stairwell leading into the ballroom, I pushed my way through the others slowly making their way back to the floor for the next dance exasperatedly, anxious to rendezvous with my missing partner so as to quell my fears, but it was with a sense of delayed irony as I bumped people aside left and right in my haste that I heard, as though with half a mind, the sound of someone calling out to me.

"Mr. Uchiha… finally alone. Would you honor me with your arm?"

A scowl, unbecoming and irritated, etched itself into existence on my face when the voice, quiet and unobtrusive yet somehow coquettish as well, broke my concentration, drawing me from my single minded search without care for my interests. I turned on my heel to face the interloper, my every intention to send the woman hailing me on her way with a few choice and razing reprimands while brooking no compassion for the bravery it must have taken to come forward when it was clear that I was on a mission.

I had no concern for anything beyond reuniting with Sakura (she had been gone far too long for me to like… I needed to find her, and _fast_), and after finding her ascertaining that she had not been confronted by Nagato. Only once I had been satisfactorily convinced that all was well would I request (demand) that she dance with me again, only the second of a long line of numbers that would be guaranteed to convey my feelings and ensure her regard of me, and _only_ me, for the rest of the evening. If that absurdly persistent doorman was still on her mind by the end of the evening, I would consider myself a failure.

And that was something I had never been described as.

The moment I was looking down into playful golden eyes, however, their brilliance shining slyly from beyond the deep blue locks of the woman's carefully coifed bangs, I realized that something more insidious than an unintentionally distracting dance offer was afoot; this woman should have been with her husband, and my superior was nowhere in sight.

Outwardly as calm as ever but panicking within, I sent the shorter statured woman smiling demurely up at me a flat look of disinterest, ignoring her extended hand rudely.

"I thank you for your offer, Mrs. Pein," I said quietly, blunt yet respectful. "But as honored as I would be to dance with you, I must away. My companion is out of sorts in large crowds, and I promised not to leave her alone tonight. Good evening."

Instead of taking my dismissal to heart, Konan sent me a smirk, full of deceit and an easy charm that, I had heard, had wooed many other men before me (I was unaffected by her brand of attractiveness; none was more beautiful than Sakura to my mind), and waved my discharge away with a careless and manicured hand.

"Don't you worry about Sakura, Itachi; my husband will be keeping her company for this dance. There, see? You have no excuses now," she admonished, playful and inciting, and I gave her a disgruntled glare, anxious to get away. If what she said was true, I needed to get to Sakura without delay. Konan brushed my displeasure off easily, though, returning my glare with a seditious simper. "Now come; be reasonable. A man such as you wouldn't leave a lady alone in the middle of the ballroom…"

Her gaze was both challenging and sly as she once again offered her hand, entrapping me in a snare of propriety and candor, and I returned her expression with one of consternated aversion, my lips thinning into a flat, displeased line at her realized trap. I could not turn her away now; people were starting to stare, and I would not allow my reputation to be tarnished so. A plot that had clearly been long in the making was unfolding around me, both Sakura and me swept into it unwillingly, and I did not like it.

But I knew the role that was expected of me, and like the gentleman I had been raised to be I took my boss's wife's hand in mine and led her, with measured and careful steps, onto the dance floor, positioning her in my grasp so that we could properly perform the waltz that the orchestra was setting up for. I was not content to lie quiescent and compliant, though, and made sure she was aware of my distemper, my eyes hard as they locked with hers and my grip firm on her waist and hand both.

I would not abide this indignity without consequence.

"I do not know what game you play at," I murmured beneath my breath, jerking Konan closer to me tersely and roughly so that we were better situated to converse in relative privacy. "But if Nagato thinks to sabotage my efforts, I will not be amiable."

Konan looked up at me staidly from her position, her thin eyebrows raised skeptically as she adjusted her grip on my shoulder, my uncooperative stiffness making the contact awkward.

"What sort of game would that be? It doesn't sound fun at all," she teased, nudging me shrewdly, but when I only scowled in response, unamused and irritated, she huffed out a sarcastic breath. "Itachi, you know that Nagato wouldn't do that to you. He only wanted to talk to Sakura alone, and since you've been guarding her from him all evening, this seemed like the only way to get her to himself… oh, and I've been meaning to tell you. You have my compliments; she is very beautiful."

I warred with the discontent that sprung from Sakura being alone with my conniving superior and the pride I felt from the compliment over my choice of women for a moment, wondering which should receive my consideration more, before deciding that I liked having Sakura spoken well of very much and sent the beaming woman in my arms a small smile, sharing in her truthful admiration of my intended as the Gran Valse was struck up, my hands on her more gentle as they led her in the first steps of the dance.

"Yes… she is. My thanks, Konan," I allowed in a whisper, grateful for another woman's opinion and yet not enough to be distracted from the other half of her speech; if Nagato had something to say to Sakura that he didn't want me to hear, it wasn't something that I wanted her knowing, and nothing that Konan could tell me would assuage my disquiet. "But do not think that I will be drawn into contentment through such easy and obvious sycophancy. I will not forget why I am dancing with you instead of her, no matter what you say of Sakura. Why must you and your husband insist on interfering, as noble as your intentions may seem to your own eyes?"

My warning was met with tinny laughter, her amusement dull beneath the stringed accompaniment and the clamor of the hundred voices that surrounded us.

"We _must_ because we care, Itachi," Konan informed me laughingly, patting my shoulder and meeting my steps with grace and ease. "You have been alone for so long, not in body but in soul, and the fact that you are pretending to be with that gorgeous young woman instead of making your wants a reality is all the more worrying to us."

I feigned nonchalance at her claim, looking around myself to try to locate the couple that we were speaking of while turning myself and my partner in a slow circle along with the rest of the room, but within, not well hidden enough for me to pretend ignorance, a chill ran down my spine, dread both spiky and poisonous in consideration.

So they had known that I was falsifying our relationship all along… my need to locate Sakura before the wrong things were said was doubled. If I could find them and get close enough to draw Sakura away from her captor, I might yet have a chance to prevent seeds being planted that I was not yet ready to have sewn.

Were Nagato to tell Sakura that I loved her before I could… I was almost completely certain that she would run.

"It is none of your business, to be frank," I said with forced calm, aware that I needed to say something in reciprocation but wary of giving my worry away with my words as I looked over Hidan's head (following my watching him attempt to square dance with his disgruntled looking partner for an amusing moment) in my search for my just as hopelessly trapped love.

"You have no right, nor admittance, to delve into my personal affairs. I have everything under control and planned out, my actions this evening included, and intend to make my charade of tonight a reality all too soon. Can you leave it be now?" I finished, hoping against hope that my revelations would be enough to sate both her and her husband's appetites for inquiry, and Konan dipped her chin in acknowledgement, though she eyed me speculatively while I rotated our bodies in time to the music, my eyes still searching the crowd.

They were here _somewhere_…

"Your plan seems most… unorthodox. I am unsure as to whether it is going to prove to be more ill-advised or more brilliant. Most likely a little of both, since it's you," Konan joked, allowing me to spin her in a graceful circle with an extended hand, and I looked back to her for a moment, only long enough to convey my derision for her synopsis.

"Considering my past foolishness, I would like to compliment myself with the praise of my endeavor being pure genius," I drawled, a smirk of knowing and provocative levity lifting one corner of my lips up for a moment, before I turned back to my perusal of the room at large… and finally spotted the pair I was looking for.

Sakura, her unbound hair swaying majestically against the bared skin of her back and her pale, moonlight flesh alike to nothing I had ever seen (I was struck again with amazement; god _above_, but she was stunning), was held in the embrace of the one man who could get away with torturing me without recompense, her posture bowed in clear discontent and her face averted as she stammered something. Her blush was enough to lead me to believe it was some sort of excuse or an admition that she was unprepared to reveal.

Nagato, as self-assured and charismatic as always, held the shyly muttering and suddenly very young looking girl close to him with a confident but kind smirk on his lips, his eyes doting and expectant of whatever Sakura was telling him. His hands were properly placed, of course, one politely high on her slim waist and the other enclosing her tiny, fragile hand with due consideration, but the mere sight of him touching her, of the tips of his fingers accidentally brushing the skin that Sakura's dress bared and of the much too intimate closeness between the two of them…

I could not bear it.

I let out an unhappy, very rude noise once I had grasped how many liberties Nagato was taking with my beloved's body (even though he, in truth, was handling her very carefully and respectfully), and made a violent motion in their direction, ready to defend Sakura's honor and my claim to her in an instant.

I was discouraged by Konan hanging on to me determinately, however, refusing to let me pull away, and the small struggle we had drew Nagato's eye; he looked up at me curiously, watching with clear amusement as I tried to break free of his wife's stranglehold, and then shot me a grin, shaking his head in mock disapproval, before steering Sakura away and into a more condensed grouping of dancers pointedly, avoiding the chance that I could get too close to them.

I let out a not very gentlemanly explicative in response to this, stretching my neck to watch their progression as well as I could from the distance I was being forced to keep, and Konan snorted in clear and mirrored amusement, tugging on my hand to regain my attention (which I gave only grudgingly and with a great deal of antipathy).

"I told you, already, Itachi… you don't have to worry. Nagato isn't going to try to mess up whatever it is you're planning; he just wants to make sure you aren't screwing things up worse than they already are," she reassured me softly, trying to soothe the audible growling that was emitting from within my chest, and I glanced at her for a single second, flicking my gaze over her sincere and repentant expression, before scoffing and turning back to inspecting the far off figures of my boss and my Sakura, impatient to be reunited with the one I had wanted to spend every second of tonight with.

"I really don't care. I intended to never once have more than a foot of distance between Sakura and I this evening, and you and your husband have managed to put an entire room and approximately eighty other people in the way. I am not forgiving of this, and wish for nothing more than to be with her again," I barked sternly, dipping the woman in my arms uncaringly when it came time to, and Konan tilted her head as she regained her posture, a small, indulgent smile on her painted lips.

"You love her very, _very_ much, don't you?" she asked, awe and admiration in her tone, and I hesitated, the urge to deny burned into my psyche through years of hiding my feelings away, before nodding stiffly, eyeing Sakura's profile from afar as she looked to Nagato with hope on her visage, clearly wishing for something he had said to be true.

What were they speaking of that could make her so happy? Had he told her of my adoration of her, and instead of fleeing, she was accepting of it? Could it be, perhaps, that she might even be able to return my feelings so soon? It was a hopeful dream, one I that I clung to in my every waking (and slumbering) hour, and though I knew the unlikeliness of such a thing coming to pass…

Was I to be faulted for my anticipation of correspondence?

"More than I myself can comprehend, at times," I admitted, voice soft and tone heartfelt, and Konan made a small sound of girlish adulation, one hand covering a gleeful grin, before she retreated from me and curtsied, her gown sweeping around her feet in wide turquoise swaths.

It took me a moment to realize why she was doing as she was, so caught up had I been in my inspection of Sakura's face, but when I finally came to the realization that the dance had ended I sank into a formal bow, slightly ashamed to have been caught so off guard.

Konan let out a chuckle at my absentmindedness, shaking a reprimanding finger at me teasingly.

"Now, now… I know that you're head over heels, but do at least _try_ to keep your tongue in your mouth. People will notice if you start drooling over the girl like she's the last donut in the box," Konan admonished playfully, crossing her arms around herself as her laughter expounded, and I scowled at her, slightly offended.

"It would please me if you would not compare my intended to a cheap, sugar coated tart laid out on a desk corner," I growled, meaning to sound firm and discouraging, but she waved my complaint away without an ounce of evidenced intimidation, leering sardonically at me instead.

"Of course, of course… that sort of fantasy is to be reserved for the bedroom, isn't it?" she replied beguilingly, clearly amused by her twisting of my words, and it was all I could do to keep from flushing, beating back the dark, suddenly ravenous part of my mind that joined this infuriating woman in her dirtying of a previously innocent phrase with all my might.

This was neither the time nor the place for such thoughts as a completely naked, chocolate smeared Sakura bent enticingly over the edge of my desk, her hands cuffed behind her back and her legs spread apart in wanton invitation…

I shook the thought from my mind with force; I had a promise to keep. I had sworn to behave myself tonight, to look on Sakura with the regard that her beauty deserved and no more, and if I was to begin the long climb that it would take to reach the pedestal she sat upon, I would need to keep in control of my desires, at least while in her presence.

Besides, that picture, and all the ones that would follow it, weren't going anywhere. I had all night, when we returned home, alone with them, to do as I pleased in my own company, so there was no need to get flustered.

And I wouldn't have, if Konan hadn't started laughing at me quite openly.

My right eye twitched reflexively, my hands tight at my sides as my pride was pricked at, and I glared at the mocking woman before me, fighting back a grimace and a blush both.

"Konan…" I warned when she did not desist, only getting more and more out of control as she watched my embarrassment grow, and she finally subsided in the wake of the threat in my tone, wiping at her eye as thought to move away a tear before holding her hands up in submission, calming her breath and backing down.

"All right, all right. I'm done," Konan claimed, though another giggle shook her when she glanced at me. "I'll stop teasing you as long as you can promise me…" she began, obviously _not_ done with prodding at me for my slip up, but was interrupted by a small hand pulling at the waist of her dress, both of us glancing down with surprise on the form of my superior's son, his dull orange hair a dulcet and calming change from his father's scarlet.

I had never seen Konan's real hair color, so perhaps this was the shade she had been born with... I had considered it before, but had reached no conclusions as Konan insisted that the blue she sported was natural.

"Mama, I'm _bored_," the boy claimed, yawning as way of evidence and sounding every bit like the five year old that he was, and Konan smiled at him lovingly, leaning down and trying to smooth a lock of his stubbornly spiky hair behind his ear (it sprang back into place obstinately, rejecting the grooming immediately).

"It's just for a little longer, Yahiko. Uncle Minato is coming to get you in half an hour, and then you'll be able to go play with your sister and cousins. Until then, why don't you dance with me? Daddy would be very proud to see you being such a gentleman…" she comforted, and the little boy instantly responded with a wide grin, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly.

No longer the center of attention, I nodded to the pair in acknowledgement (Konan nodded back and Yahiko waved enthusiastically) before turning on my heel and beginning my trek through the once again burgeoning crowd, searching for Sakura with diligence.

I needed to make sure that nothing that Nagato had said would be construed completely correctly…

On my way, I bumped shoulders with the former perpetrator, clearly making his own way to reunite with his own family, and I sent him a poisonous, hateful glare as we passed, my lip curling unconsciously.

"If you have ruined my plans, I will make you suffer," I hissed at him, my tone low and meant only for our ears, but my anger made no impression on him, Nagato merely grinning and shrugging off my threat with aplomb.

"You will thank me someday," he assured me, confident in his meddling, before continuing on, and I stared after him for a moment, seriously considering hitting him in the back of the head, before snorting and attending to my previous endeavor, stalking through the masses of well-dressed people that stood between me and my love, the top of her head now visible in the not too far off distance.

She was turning on the spot when I finally came to stand behind her, stretching up on her tiptoes as though searching for someone, and it pleased me greatly to realize that it was me that she was seeking when her eyes lit up as she registered my presence, though the color she had gained during her sojourn with my superior drained from her face when she turned to me.

This was, perhaps, due to the aura of murder I was exuding (I was greatly put out by Nagato and Konan's prying), and I did my best to push my discontent back while I spoke hurriedly with Sakura about her discourse, questioning her on what had been said.

Judging from Sakura's unchanged observation of me, Nagato had not said anything to have enlightened her to my feelings, but I could also tell that she was hiding something as she stumbled through an explanation of her exchanged words.

I suspected that she was merely secreting away the fact that we had been found out in our charade, hoping to avoid upsetting me with the news that our ploy had been unsuccessful, and I took my comfort in that, hardly daring to believe my luck; Nagato truly had not revealed anything.

This was almost expunging of his and his wife's coup, though not completely.

Satisfied and relieved, I calmed considerably and took Sakura's hand in mine, once again reveling in the touch of her skin, and drew her back to the dance floor, intending to not once let her go again for the rest of the night, and did just that.

I hoarded her to myself, denying her interaction with any of the other men who wished to dance with her (Kisame and Kakuzu both teasingly asked after her hand at one point, aware of my jealous tenure, but a few others had seriously wanted to take her for a turn around the room and I, admittedly a little harshly, sent them all on their way with a possessive glare), and gloried in the reciprocation I received from the woman I loved most in the world.

She gladly received the kisses I pressed boldly to her cheeks while we danced and socialized both (I was nowhere near brave enough to try to kiss her fully, and so contented myself with such stipend as the press of my lips to her jaw and cheekbones) and did not deny me my selfishness when I touched at the skin of her back that her dress revealed, contentment in her posture as she leaned her head trustingly on my shoulder while we were dancing and held my hand while we weren't.

We were the focal point of many, packs of ladies whispering conspiratorially behind their hands as they gushed over the romance they were viewing and groups of men sending me resentful looks for putting their own attempts at social chivalry to shame, but I did not care for their attentions, looking no further than Sakura any longer.

I needed nothing more than her presence in my arms, her hand in mine and her smile for me and me alone, and with this bounty, with her feelings for me clear in her eyes (dare I call it love?), I felt, in my own way, more happy than I ever have before.

Perhaps things would turn out well after all.

* * *

_And there you have it, friends! The long awaited Gala, and all the stuffing that goes along with it. Hey, at least it wasn't a whole year's wait this time, and it only took this long because I wasted a lot of time writing 20,000 words each for two of my other stories. I'm getting a little better. If only a little. Anyway, leave me a review if you have some free time. I appreciate your feedback, and I would be very happy to hear whether there's something that I need to work on or if you liked it or even if you have an idea for this that I may have overlooked. I'm open to a lot of things. But that's it from me for now. Be off with you, and see you next time!_


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